WAGNER    AT    HOME 


S 


WAGNER    AT 
HOME 


FROM    THE    FRENCH    OF 

JUDITH  ^GAUTIER 

BY 

EFFIE   DUNREITH    MASSIE 


WITH    NINE    ILLUSTRATIONS 


NEW   YORK 
JOHN    LANE   COMPANY 

MCMXI 


Copyright  in  the  British  Empire,  Mills  &  Boon,  Limited,  London 


Printed  by  ROWELL  &  SONS,  Great  Eastern  Street,  London 


LIST   OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

RICHARD  WAGNER         ....       Frontispiece 

JACING   FAGX 

MADAME  COSIMA  WAGNER        .  .  .  .104 

CORNER  OF  JUDITH  GAUTIER'S  SALON  .  .  .129 

JUDITH  GAUTIER  IN  BRITTANY  .  .  .141 

WAGNER'S  THEATRE  AT  BAYREUTH       .  .  .       160 

JUDITH  GAUTIER  IN  HER  GARDEN  AT  ST  EUOGAT  .       215 

•MB 

PART  OF  SCORE  OF  THE  FIRST  ACT  IN  "PARSIFAL"  .  259 
PART  OF  SCORE  OF  THE  SECOND  ACT  IN  "PARSIFAL"  260 
PART  OF  SCORE  OF  THE  LAST  ACT  IN  "PARSIFAL"  .  26l 


WAGNER    AT    HOME 

PART   FIRST 

I 

E  train  moved  slowly,  as  becomes  a  well- 
conducted  Swiss  train  that  winds  through 
beautiful  country,  and  has  no  intention  of  blurring 
the  views  by  undue  haste.  At  each  station  there 
was  a  long  stop,  a  slow  renewal  of  leisurely  motion. 

To  our  little  company  of  impatient  French 
people  within  the  compartment  this  slow  progress 
was  very  trying.  A  feverish  excitement  possessed 
us  ;  we  could  not  sit  still ;  from  time  to  time  we 
thrust  our  heads  between  the  curtains  to  gaze 
in  advance  of  the  train.  Villiers  de  1'Isle-Adam 
was  one  of  us  and  most  enthusiastic  of  all,  his 
emotion  continually  bubbling  over  into  spasmodic 
laughter  and  disjointed  phrases. 

On  an  ordinary  excursion  this  slowness  of  the 
train  would  not  have  troubled  us — but  to-day — 
to-day  we  were  going  to  Lucerne  to  see  for  the 
first  time — Richard  Wagner  ! 


2  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

The  swiftest  "  Express "  would  have  seemed 
slow  to  us,  yet  we  half  dreaded  the  moment  of 
arrival — when  we  should  see  the  Master,  hear 
him,  speak  to  him  ! 

What  this  wonderful  genius  meant  to  us  it 
would  have  been  difficult  to  make  clear  to  those 
who  were  not  of  us,  at  that  time  when  only  a 
little  group  of  disciples  stood  by  the  Master 
upholding  him  against  the  jeers  of  the  masses 
who  failed  to  comprehend  him.  Even  to-day, 
when  the  triumph  of  the  cause  we  supported  has 
surpassed  our  hopes,  it  is  not  easy  to  explain  our 
exaltation.  We  had  the  fanaticism  of  priests  and 
martyrs — even  to  the  slaying  of  our  adversaries ! 
It  would,  in  fact,  have  been  impossible  to  convince 
us  that  we  should  not  be  entirely  justified  in 
annihilating  all  those  scoffers — blind  to  the  new 
radiance  which  was  so  clear  to  us. 

Each  Sunday,  when  Pasdeloup  played  selec- 
tions from  Wagner,  Homeric  defiances  were  hurled 
between  the  opposing  camps  in  the  body  of  the 
concert  hall  and  the  interference  of  the  town- 
guard  was  often  required  to  prevent  actual  hand- 
to-hand  conflict. 

We  had  never  dreamed  that  one  day  we  should 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  3 

look  upon  the  face  of  the  Master.  He  was  for 
us  as  inaccessible  as  Jupiter  on  the  heights  of 
Olympus  or  Jehovah  behind  the  flaming  triangle, 
yet  now  we  were  going  to  him  ! 

"It  is  to  you,  my  dear  Judith,  that  we  owe 
this  incredible  good  fortune,"  exclaimed  Villiers, 
throwing  himself  upon  the  seat  beside  me  and 
pressing  my  hand  between  both  his  own. 

In  truth  it  was  due  to  me,  and  my  pride  in  the 
fact  would  not  allow  me  to  make  light  of  it. 

For,  carried  away  by  my  enthusiasm  and 
relying  upon  my  instinct  alone,  I  had  had  the 
audacity  a  few  months  before  to  publish  a  series 
of  articles  upon  Richard  Wagner.  I  had  done 
this  with  a  truly  French  impulsiveness,  as  I  had 
then  heard  only  a  few  fragments,  indifferently 
rendered  by  orchestra,  of  all  his  stupendous 
work.  I  had  even  dared  to  attack  an  article 
upon  Gliick  and  Wagner,  published  by  Earnest 
Reyer,  a  friend  who  had  known  me  from  my 
babyhood,  and  who  was  amazed  by  such  une- 
expected  aggression — truly  youth  stops  at  nothing 
— he  had,  however,  replied  very  courteously, 
and  this  musical  passage  of  arms  had  created 
some  little  sensation. 


4  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

After  much  hesitation  I  had  sent  the  articles 
to  Wagner — then  at  Lucerne — and  with  them 
a  letter  in  which  I  begged  him  to  forgive  and  to 
correct  whatever  errors  there  might  be.  Then, 
with  what  trepidation  I  looked  and  longed  for  a 
reply !  Would  he  write  ? — I  could  hardly  hope 
for  that.  Yet  I  suffered  a  pang  of  disappoint- 
ment each  morning  when  the  postman  came  and 
went,  leaving  no  longed-for  letter.  One  day, 
at  last,  I  saw  an  envelope  bearing  a  Lucerne 
stamp  and  an  unfamiliar  handwriting  which  I 
nevertheless  knew  at  once.  With  what  emotions, 
and  in  what  fear  and  trembling  I  opened  it. 
Could  it  be  possible  ? — Four  whole  pages  of  fine, 
close  writing,  clear  and  elegant,  and  below  the 
last  line  the  magic  signature  !  .  .  .  Here  is  the 
letter : — 

"  MADAME, — You  cannot  imagine  the  kindly 
and  touching  impression  that  your  letter  and 
your  beautiful  articles  have  made  upon  me. 
Permit  me  to  thank  you  and  to  count  you  among 
the  very  few  true  friends  whose  far-seeing  sym- 
pathy makes  my  only  glory.  I  have  found  nothing 
to  correct  or  to  alter  in  your  articles ;  only  I  see 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  5 

that  you  do  not  yet  know  the  Meistersinger  very 
intimately.  The  introduction  to  the  third  act 
has  really  appealed  to  our  public.  My  barber 
told  me  the  other  day  that  this  part  pleased 
him  most  of  all,  which  led  me  to  reflect  that  the 
instincts  of  the  people  can  neither  be  measured 
nor  comprehended. 

"  As  the  curtain  rises  upon  this  third  act,  Hans 
Sachs,  the  cobbler,  is  seen  in  his  workshop,  early 
in  the  morning,  seated  in  his  arm-chair,  entirely 
absorbed  by  his  reading  of  the  'Chronicle'  of 
the  world.  He  speaks  to  his  young  apprentice, 
without  interrupting  the  profound  concentration 
of  his  mind  upon  his  book. 

"  After  the  departure  of  the  boy,  he  remains 
with  head  bowed  over  his  enormous  volume,  and 
his  meditation,  silent  up  to  this  point,  finally 
finds  expression  in  these  words  spoken  aloud, 
*  Wahn,  Wahn  !  uberall  Wahn  /  '  I  do  not  know 
how  to  translate  this,  because  '  Vanity,  Vanity! 
All  is  vanity  ! '  does  not  give  the  exact  meaning 
of  Wahn,  which  is  much  more  general,  and 
expresses  the  object  of  the  folly  as  well  as  the 
folly  itself. 

"  God    only    knows    how   my  public  divined, 


6  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

from  the  instrumental  introduction  to  the  third 
act,  the  situation  that  followed  and  the  spiritual 
state  of  my  Hans  Sachs. 

"  It  is  true  that  in  the  second  act,  during  the 
third  verse  of  the  shoemaker's  song,  the  first 
motif  of  the  stringed  instruments  had  been 
introduced,  suggesting  there  the  hidden  bitter- 
ness of  the  all- enduring  man  who  reveals  to  the 
world  only  a  cheerful  and  energetic  front. 

"  Eva  had  comprehended  this  secret  grief,  and, 
moved  to  the  depth  of  her  soul,  she  had  longed 
to  fly  where  she  could  no  longer  hear  that  song 
with  its  pretence  of  joy. 

"  Here  l  this  motif  is  played  alone  and  developed 
fully,  to  die  away  at  last  in  the  sadness  of  re- 
nunciation, but,  at  the  same  time,  the  horns  take 
up,  softly,  as  if  heard  from  a  distance,  the  solemn 
chant  with  which  Hans  Sachs  saluted  Luther 
and  the  Reformation,  and  which  brought  to  the 
poet  a  supreme  popularity.  After  the  first  strophe 
the  stringed  instruments  retake  softly,  and  in 
a  very  slow  movement,  the  themes  of  the  true 
song  of  the  shoemaker,  as  if  the  man  raised  his 
head  from  the  work  of  his  trade  to  look  upward 

1  In  the  introduction  to  the  third  act. 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  7 

and  lose  himself  in  sweet  and  tender  reveries. 
Then  the  horns,  with  their  most  exalted  tone, 
break  in  triumphantly  with  that  hymn  of  the 
Master  with  which  Hans  Sachs,  on  his  appearance 
at  the  Fete  in  the  third  act,  is  saluted  by  all  the 
people  of  Nuremberg  in  one  unanimous  thunder 
of  applause. 

"  Again,  the  first  motif  of  the  stringed  instru- 
ments enters,  expressing  with  vigour  the  natural 
emotion  of  a  soul  profoundly  moved.  Gradually 
it  grows  calmer  and  more  serene,  and  finally 
arrives  at  the  supreme  peace  of  a  sweet  and 
beautiful  resignation. 

"It  is  the  real  meaning  of  this  short  instru- 
mental part  that  so  impressed  the  worthy  Pasde- 
loup  that  he  essayed  to  perform  it  at  your  concerts 
as  an  illustration  of  this  unusual  music. 

"  Pardon  me,  Madame,  for  venturing  to  com- 
plete, with  the  aid  of  my  imperfect  French,  your 
knowledge  of  my  music — a  knowledge  otherwise 
so  thorough  and  profound  as  truly  to  have  sur- 
prised and  touched  me. 

"  I  shall  probably  go  to  Paris  before  long, 
perhaps  even  this  winter,  and  I  delight  in  the 
anticipation  of  the  real  pleasure  of  taking  your 


8  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

hand  and  telling  you  in  person  what  good  you 
have  done  to  your  very  grateful  and  sincere, 

"  RICHARD  WAGNER." 

Wagner  did  not  come  to  Paris  that  winter, 
so  I  looked  for  him  in  vain.  But  my  longing 
to  see  him  had  become  irresistible  since  the  Master 
had  written  that  he  would  like  to  know  me. 

There  was  only  one  thing  to  do — to  go  to 
Lucerne.  But  how  should  I  be  received  ? 
Strange  stories  were  told  about  Wagner.  One 
authority  reported  that  he  had  a  seraglio  of 
women  of  all  countries  and  of  all  colours,  clothed 
magnificently,  but  that  no  one  ever  crossed  his 
threshold. 

Someone  else  described  him  as  an  unsociable 
man,  gloomy  and  disagreeable,  living  alone  in 
strict  seclusion,  his  only  companion  a  great  black 
dog.  .  .  . 

The  idea  of  this  stern  solitude  was  not  incon- 
gruous, and  rather  pleased  me  ;  but  I  was  greatly 
troubled  lest  the  Master  might  feel  forced  to  permit 
my  intrusion  only  through  some  sentiment  of 
gratitude  or  courtesy. 

Therefore  I  wrote  a  rather  complicated  letter, 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  9 

saying  that  I  should  pass  through  Lucerne  with 
some  friends,  on  my  way  to  an  exhibition  of 
paintings  at  Munich.  It  would  be  only  a  flying 
visit,  I  wrote,  and  I  begged  him  to  tell  me  if  he 
would  be  there  at  that  time,  and  if  I  might  go 
to  pay  my  respects  to  him. 

He  would  understand  from  this  that  I  should 
not  disturb  him  by  staying  too  long. 

The  following  letter  completely  reassured  me  : — 

"  MADAME, — I  am  now  in  Lucerne,  and  I  need 
not  tell  you  how  glad  I  shall  be  to  see  you.  But 
can  I  not  persuade  you  to  prolong  your  stay  in 
Lucerne  for  a  little,  in  order  that  the  pleasure 
you  grant  me  may  not  be  too  soon  over  ? 

"  I  suppose  that  you  are  going  to  Munich  for 
the  exhibition  of  paintings ;  yet,  as  I  venture 
to  believe  that  you  would  be  glad  to  hear  some 
one  of  my  works,  I  must  tell  you  that  the  repre- 
sentations of  Tanrihauser,  Lohengrin,  Tristan, 
and  the  Meistersinger  took  place  in  the  month 
of  June  ;  the  theatre  is  closed  at  present,  and  the 
Rheingold  will  not  be  given  before  the  25th  August, 
if,  indeed,  it  is  given  at  all. 

"  But    I    hope    that    neither    the    postpone- 


io  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

ment  of  the  exhibition  nor  the  closing  of  the 
theatre  will  delay  your  visit  to  Lucerne ;  on 
the  contrary,  I  shall  hope  that  your  stay  here 
may  be  prolonged. 

"  Please  send  me  a  line,  telling  me  the  day  of 
your  arrival,  and  accept  again  the  assurance  of 
my  sincere  regard. 

"  RICHARD  WAGNER." 

By  an  exchange  of  telegrams  I  was  assured 
that  the  Master  would  also  welcome  my  com- 
panions, like  myself  his  ardent  disciples — and 
off  we  started. 

The  last  night  we  slept  at  Basle,  where  we  had 
an  adventure  which  made  a  vivid  impression 
upon  us  all.  We  arrived  at  night,  and  after 
dining,  we  attempted  to  see  what  we  could  of  the 
city,  in  spite  of  the  darkness.  We  found  our- 
selves in  a  maze  of  narrow  streets,  dimly  lighted 
at  long  intervals.  Rather  bewildered,  we  went 
on  across  thoroughfares  and  squares  where  large 
fountains  could  be  seen,  only  to  find  ourselves 
again  in  narrow  lanes. 

At  last  we  emerged  into  a  wide,  open  place, 
which  the  sky  helped  to  make  a  little  lighter ;  a 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  u 

deep  and  continuous  roaring  pervaded  it,  which 
quite  appalled  us,  and  made  us  advance  with 
great  precaution.  This  tremendous  volume  of 
sound  was  produced  by  the  Rhine.  It  is  very 
wide  at  this  point  and  rushes  through  Basle  with 
the  violence  of  a  torrent. 

Stopping  in  the  middle  of  the  bridge,  we  leaned 
over  the  parapet,  and  watched  the  ink-black 
river  hurling  itself  on  into  the  night,  bearing 
with  it  the  shattered  reflections  of  the  stars, 
and  seeming  to  long  to  carry  away  the  bridge 
also,  and  even  the  city. 

A  large  moon,  red  as  glowing  embers,  rose 
above  the  gables  and  irregular  outlines  of  the 
houses  along  the  river-bank.  It  cast  across  the 
river  a  crimson  trail,  which  was  wildly  tossed 
and  scattered  by  the  waves. 

We  lingered  there,  spell-bound  by  this  sight, 
when,  suddenly,  we  heard  a  song,  that  seemed 
to  rise  clear  and  strong  out  of  the  tumult  of 
waters.  Could  we  be  dreaming  ?  It  was  well 
known  to  us.  The  sailors'  song  from  The  Flying 
Dutchman.  What !  Did  that  ill-omened  ship 
come  to  roam  by  night  upon  this  impassable 
stream  ?  Bending  lower,  we  peered  into  the 


12  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

black  water,  but  we  could  see  nothing ;  yet  now 
the  voices  were  very  near — it  seemed  as  if  the 
invisible  ship  were  passing  under  the  arch  of  the 
bridge  itself. 

We  were  greatly  agitated,  but  when  the  voices 
were  silent,  we  went  away  without  wishing  to 
fathom  the  mystery,  shunning  the  possible  dis- 
covery of  some  cheerful  tavern  concealed  in  a 
recess  of  the  high  bank,  where  lusty  Swiss  peasants 
found  shelter,  and  grouped  about  their  mugs 
of  foaming  beer,  sang  with  their  clear,  sonorous 
voices  the  song  that  had  so  mystified  us. 

Now,  while  the  train  crept  along,  we  recalled 
this  episode  of  our  pilgrimage,  and  it  seemed  to 
us  a  happy  omen. 

For  the  first  time  we  had  been  able  to  listen 
with  an  untroubled  enjoyment  to  a  passage  from 
the  Master.  In  Paris,  it  was  always  in  a  state 
of  feverish  excitement — with  watchful  eyes  and 
fists  clenched,  ready  to  pounce  upon  the  inter- 
rupters— that  we  absorbed  the  new  music. 

Outside  our  own  country,  it  appeared,  the 
cause  was  already  won,  and  the  music  of  Richard 
Wagner  already  popular.  Very  slowly  we  counted 
off  the  different  stations,  and  at  length  we  were 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  13 

approaching  the  last  one.  Our  excitement  in- 
creased. We  were  overcome  by  a  sort  of  sacred 
terror.  We  searched  among  the  gods  of  art  for 
the  one  who  should  appear  to  us  greater  than 
this  one,  into  whose  presence  we  should  so  soon 
be  ushered — for  that  one  in  the  whole  sublime 
Olympus  of  geniuses  whom  we  could  prefer  to 
him,  or  whom  we  would  rather  see,  could  we  be 
given  the  power  to  choose. 

Homer,  ^Eschylus,  Dante,  Goethe,  Beethoven, 
we  named  them  all.  Even  the  divine  Shakespeare 
failed  to  make  us  hesitate.  To  us  the  name  of 
Wagner  flamed  higher,  with  a  more  magical  lustre. 

He  was  Orpheus  and  Apollo  both,  blended  to 
one  lyre.  Poet,  musician,  philosopher — what, 
indeed,  was  he  not  ?  this  latest  comer. 

"  He  is  cubic.  He  comprises  all,"  said  Villiers, 
with  finality. 

"  Emmenbriicke,"  called  out  the  porter. 

The  last  station  was  passed ;    one  more  half- 
hour,  and  then  Lucerne ! 

Again  we  rhapsodised,  this  time  seeking  new 
names  for  Wagner,  eulogistic  titles,  such  as  history 
has  reserved  for  her  greatest  men.  >^ 

"The   Eagle   of   the   Righi,"   "The  Swan   of 


14  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

Lucerne  " — "  The  Swan  "  appeared  especially 
appropriate  to  us,  because  of  Lohengrin ;  but 
Villiers  thought  the  allusion  too  ingenuous. 
"  The  Swan  of  Cambrai,  the  Swan  of  Lucerne," — 
he  groped  about  for  a  synonym,  and  finally 
burst  out  triumphantly  with, 

"  The  Palmiped  of  Lucerne  !  " 

An  explosion  of  laughter  relieved  our  nervous 
tension.  But  the  train  whistled,  and  again  our 
hearts  began  to  beat  wildly.  Leaning  half  through 
the  window,  dishevelled  by  the  wind,  Villiers 
looked  eagerly.  It  was  impossible  that  anyone 
could  fail  to  see  it — that  glorious  radiance  directly 
above  the  city  which  held  such  an  oracle.  With- 
out any  doubt,  even  in  the  full  light  of  day,  a 
shining  star  marked,  for  pious  pilgrims,  the  place 
of  the  new  Oracle. 

We  entered  the  station. 

Suddenly,  Villiers,  pale  and  with  dilated  eyes, 
drew  back,  and  dropped  upon  the  seat,  exclaiming, 

"  The  Palmiped  !  " 

II 

It  was  indeed  true  ! 

Standing  alone,  a  big  straw  hat  on  his  head, 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  15 

Wagner  waited  for  us  on  the  platform.  To  be 
sure,  we  had  never  before  seen  him,  but  how 
could  anyone  fail  to  recognise  him  ? 

He,  who  had  no  idea  how  we  looked,  counted 
upon  us  to  disclose  ourselves.  Motionless,  in 
full  view,  he  scanned  with  close  attention  the 
stream  of  arriving  people.  It  was  I  who  hurried 
toward  him,  in  an  effusion  of  joy  which  dominated 
every  other  emotion. 

He  included  us  all  in  a  steady  and  luminous 
gaze  that  reached  to  the  very  soul,  and  then  shook 
hands  with  us. 

After  a  moment  of  solemn  silence,  he  smiled 
and  offered  me  his  arm. 

"  Come,"  said  he  to  me,  "  if  you  do  not  look  for 
too  much  magnificence,  you  will  like  the  Hotel 
du  Lac.  I  have  engaged  rooms  for  you  there." 

And,  with  quick  steps,  he  drew  me  outside  the 
station. 

On  the  way  to  the  hotel  he  paused  for  a  moment, 
and  turning  on  me  a  steady  and  serious  gaze  said, 
with  every  appearance  of  emotion, 

"  It  is  a  very  noble  sentiment  that  brings  us 
together,  Madam !  " 

The  hotel  was  near  the  station,  and  when  we 


16  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

arrived,  the  Master,  after  recommending  us  to 
the  care  of  the  host,  turned  and  said  to  us  with 
a  whimsical  air :  "  Now  I  am  going  to  prepare 
myself  to  receive  you,  otherwise  I  should  make 
blunders.  You  will  come  presently  to  '  Tribschen,' 
will  you  not,  as  soon  as  you  have  rested  a  little  ? 
Come  by  the  lake,  that  is  the  most  convenient 
way." 

To  prepare  himself  to  receive  us  ! 

From  an  upper  window  we  watched  him,  as 
with  quick  steps  he  went  away,  saw  him  cross 
the  old  bridge,  reach  the  quay,  take  a  boat. 

Without  speaking  a  word,  with  the  same  wor- 
shipping expression  upon  every  face,  we  followed 
him  with  our  eyes.  .  .  .  Then,  when  he  had 
quite  disappeared,  "  Quick  !  let  us  dress  quickly  ! 
We  certainly  will  not  allow  him  to  wait  for  us." 

Ill 

Behold  us,  in  our  turn,  at  the  edge  of  the  lake 
of  the  "  Four  Cantons,"  on  the  wharf,  which 
shelters  a  whole  fleet  of  white  boats  with  slackened 
sails. 

What  a  landscape !  What  scenery ! — And 
what  a  harmonious  setting  for  the  picture  ! 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  17 

The  lake,  so  pure,  so  clear  that  it  seems  like 
a  mass  of  blue  crystal,  a  liquid  sapphire,  is  lost 
to  sight  between  the  spurs  of  the  mountains. 
On  one  side  looms  Mount  Pilatus,  of  the  purple 
grey  of  storm  clouds,  rugged  and  bare,  outlining 
against  the  sky  its  rocky  summit ;  on  the  other, 
verdant  Righi  undulates,  bristling  with  dark 
green  firs  that  form  a  contrast  to  its  bright  lawns 
of  tender  green.  And  beyond,  dim,  cloudy,  and 
unreal,  appear  the  indentations  of  the  Alps. 

Choosing  a  boatman,  we  call  to  him,  proudly, 

"ToTribschen." 

With  a  thrust  of  his  boat  hook  the  man  launches 
us  from  the  bank  and  spreads  his  sail. 

Now  it  is  the  city  that  we  see,  the  old  Lucerne 
with  its  unequal  houses,  its  many  belfries,  its 
unused  bastions,  spread  out  above  the  picturesque 
little  wooden  bridge  which  we  had  hardly  noticed 
when  we  crossed  it,  but  which  now  redoubles  the 
curves  of  its  rustic  arches  in  the  blue  waters  of  the 
lake. 

But  it  is  the  other  horizon  only  which  interests 
us ;  that  slender  promontory  over  there,  which 
advances  at  a  gentle  slope,  closing  half  the  passage. 
Toward  that  point  the  breeze  gently  wafts  our 


i8  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

rounded   sail.    There   is   Tribschen,   the   domain 
of  Richard  Wagner ! 

A  swan  floats  upon  the  lake,  majestically 
parting  the  clear  water  with  his  snowy  breast, 
and  we  imagine  we  can  see  between  his  wings  the 
golden  chain  which  yoked  him  to  Lohengrin's 
little  shallop.  To  our  imagination  the  green 
Righi  is  Mount  Salvat ;  the  temple  of  the  Grail 
must  be  concealed  there  behind  the  vigilant 
trees,  and  we  search  at  the  summit  of  Pilate 
for  the  giant  portal  of  divine  Walhalla. 

But  we  are  nearing  the  promontory ;  we 
can  distinguish  the  slender  poplars  that  stand 
erect  upon  its  extreme  point,  then  the  trees 
and  tufted  shrubs  ranged  behind,  and  there, 
through  an  opening  in  the  branches,  we  can  even 
see  a  gable  and  a  window  of  the  house. 

And  now  we  reach  the  shore.  The  boat  floats 
under  a  little  shed  built  upon  piles. 

With  what  deep  emotion  we  set  foot  upon  this 
sacred  soil ! 

There  is  no  door,  no  hedge,  no  limit  to  this 
garden ;  the  lake,  the  hills,  the  forests,  the  Alps, 
the  whole  world  seems  a  part  of  it,  and  even  as  this 
thought  appeals  to  our  young  enthusiasm,  so  also 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  19 

is  it  true  and  prophetic,  since  the  world  shall,  in 
truth,  become  the  domain  of  the  great  one  who 
dwells  here. 

The  earth  rises  in  a  gentle  slope  toward  the 
house,  which  we  see  at  the  other  side  of  a  wide 
lawn.  It  seems  a  very  simple  house,  all  of  gray, 
long  and  low  under  its  roof  of  reddish  tiles.  In 
the  centre  a  double  flight  of  seven  or  eight  steps, 
guarded  by  an  iron  balustrade,  leads  to  the  drawing- 
room. 

We  advance  slowly,  full  of  emotion  and  thought- 
ful, as  at  the  threshold  of  a  temple.  Some  one  has 
seen  us,  undoubtedly,  as  the  Master  appears  at  the 
door  of  the  drawing-room  and  descends  the  steps, 
a  big  black  Newfoundland  bounding  by  his  side. 

With  an  air  at  once  ceremonious  and  cordial, 
Wagner  bids  us  enter. 

A  tall  and  slender  young  woman,  with  a  noble 
and  distinguished  air,  a  sweet  smile  and  very 
blue  eyes  under  her  beautiful  blond  hair,  stands 
in  the  centre  of  the  drawing-room,  surrounded 
by  four  little  girls,  one  of  them  an  infant. 

"  Frau  von  Bulow,  who  has  kindly  come  with 
her  children  to  see  me,"  said  the  Master,  in  pre- 
senting her. 


20  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

After  shaking  hands  with  us  cordially,  she  tells 
us  the  names  of  her  children — Senta,  Elisabeth, 
Isolda,  and  Eva — who  gaze  at  us  with  big,  wonder- 
ing eyes. 

We  recognise  in  this  choice  of  godmothers, 
all  taken  from  among  the  heroines  of  Wagner, 
an  enthusiasm  as  great  as  our  own,  which  drives 
away  all  constraint  between  the  charming  mother 
and  ourselves. 

Then  the  dogs  are  presented  to  us.  The  big 
Newfoundland  Rouzemouk,  or  "  Russ "  famili- 
arly, and  Cos,  a  gray  pug  belonging  to  Frau  von 
Billow. 

"  My  name  is  Cosima,"  she  tells  me,  "  and  my 
friends  at  home  have  formed  the  very  bad  habit, 
which  actually  gives  me  chills,  of  calling  me 
"  Cos,"  so  I  have  given  that  name  to  my  dog, 
and  since  then  no  one  dares  call  me  anything 
but  Cosima ! " 

So  the  talk  goes  on,  happy,  quick-witted, 
enthusiastic,  the  Master  almost  as  gay  as  the 
disciples  ;  and  we  have  so  much  to  say  ! 

Wagner  speaks  French  more  than  moderately 
well.  He  speaks  it  correctly,  but  in  his  own  way, 
with  a  certain  freedom  and  audacity.  When  he 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  21 

is  unable  to  find  a  word  to  express  his  exact 
thought,  or  when  he  believes  there  is  no  such 
word,  he  promptly  creates  one,  and  always  so 
clearly,  so  logically,  that  one  can  never  fail  to 
comprehend.  He  speaks  to  me  of  Paris,  which 
he  loves,  but  where  he  has  suffered  much;  he 
speaks  also  without  bitterness  of  the  great  battle 
of  Tannhduser,  concerning  which  we  feel  such 
mortification  for  our  country.  Yet  he  has  gained, 
he  says,  a  number  of  sincere  partisans  in  France 
who  console  him  for  the  defeat.  Those  who 
appreciate  him  there  appreciate  him  more 
thoroughly  than  his  German  admirers. 

The  Frenchman,  more  nervous,  more  responsive, 
when  he  does  understand,  understands  at  once, 
and  the  warmth  of  his  enthusiasm  is  very  consoling. 

The  German  is  more  patient  and  tranquil ;  he 
absorbs  conscientiously  whatever  is  presented  to 
him,  but  he  shows  very  little  feeling ;  there  can  be 
nothing  more  frigid,  more  depressing,  than  certain 
playhouses  where  the  stalls  are  filled  with  women 
in  woollen  frocks.  "  And,  in  order  not  to  lose 
any  time  at  the  theatre,"  cries  the  Master,  in- 
dignantly, "  they  take  their  knitting  with  them  !  " 

Then,  also,  we  look   about  us  with  respectful 


22  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

curiosity,  at  the  interior  of  the  temple,  of  which 
the  quiet  and  pervading  richness  forms  a  strong 
contrast  to  the  simple  gray  of  the  exterior. 

The  drawing-room  is  rather  large ;  it  occupies  an 
entire  angle  of  the  house,  and  has  windows  on  two 
sides.  It  is  bathed  in  warm  and  restful  shadows 
between  its  walls  covered  with  yellow  leather  traced 
with  arabesques  of  gold.  A  thick  carpet  muffles  the 
footsteps.  The  velvet  draperies  of  the  windows 
fall  in  heavy  folds  and  mass  themselves  upon  the 
floor.  A  fine  portrait  of  Beethoven  holds  sway 
at  the  end  of  the  grand  piano,  and  faces  a  mirror 
which  reflects  it.  Upon  two  other  panels  Goethe 
and  Schiller  hang  facing  each  other.  From  the 
ceiling  depends  a  big  bronze  lamp. 

A  large  divan  of  purple  damask  stands  against 
the  wall,  and  soft  easy-chairs  and  cabinets  are 
grouped  here  and  there. 

"  Will  you  come  to  see  my  gallery  ?  "  asks 
Wagner,  with  a  smile  which  mocks  the  ambitious 
title.  A  wide  arch  connects  the  drawing-room 
with  a  long,  narrow  room  hung  in  violet  velvet, 
against  which  the  whiteness  of  small  marble  statues 
stands  out  in  soft  relief. 

They  are  the  heroes  of  the  Master's  works : 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  23 

Tannhauser  touching  the  strings  of  his  lyre,  and 
singing  the  passionate  song  to  the  glory  of  Venus. 
Lohengrin,  like  an  archangel,  drawing  his  sword 
for  the  defence  of  innocence.  Tristan,  the  knight, 
who  believes  that  he  drinks  from  the  goblet  of 
death,  and  drains  instead  the  cup  where  sparkles 
the  philtre  of  love.  Walther  von  der  Vogelweide, 
and  the  last-born,  the  youthful  and  impetuous 
Siegfried,  holding  between  his  fingers  the  fatal 
ring. 

There  are  also  some  tapestries,  the  gift  of  King 
Ludwig  of  Bavaria,  which  portray  scenes  from  the 
Nibelungen.  In  a  niche  a  gilded  Buddha,  Chinese 
incense-burners,  chiselled  cups — all  sorts  of  rare 
and  precious  things.  In  one  corner  there  are  two 
round  table  cabinets  with  covers  of  glass,  which 
protect  a  collection  of  magnificent  butterflies 
with  great  gold  and  purple  wings. 

"  This  collection  of  butterflies  came  from  the 
Paris  Exposition,"  announces  the  Master,  laugh- 
ing,  "  and  from  amid  all  that  great  mass  of  things 
which  owe  their  existence  to  the  prodigious  labours 
of  mankind  this  is  the  one  thing  that  an  artist 
finds  most  to  his  taste." 

Having    returned    to    the    drawing-room,    our 


24  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

talk  goes  on,  without  constraint.  The  Master 
dazzles  us  by  the  charm  of  his  words,  his  force 
and  geniality,  and,  above  all,  by  his  incomparable 
intellect.  Now  we  begin  to  feel  that  it  is  time 
to  retire.  We  disembarked  at  Tribschen  about 
five  o'clock ;  it  is  growing  dark  and  it  must  be 
late,  perhaps  nearing  the  dinner-hour,  and,  above 
all,  we  wish  to  be  discreet  and  tactful.  But  at 
our  first  suggestion  of  going  they  exclaim  with 
such  an  evident  cordiality  and  urge  us  to  stay 
with  such  friendly  insistence  that  in  the  greatest 
content  we  sit  down  again. 

The  children  say  good-night  to  everyone,  and 
go  to  bed.  Lamps  are  brought,  and  time  passes 
most  delightfully.  But  at  length — 0  humiliation  ! 
— our  stomachs  begin  to  protest  and  reproach  us 
for  forgetting  them  so  long.  We  breakfasted 
before  leaving  Basle  this  morning,  very  hastily 
and  earlier  than  usual,  and  it  is  a  long  time  since 
then.  Our  host  has  not  invited  us  to  dinner, 
but  since  he  keeps  us  on — probably  they  dine 
late  at  Tribschen. 

Toward  nine  o'clock  the  door  opens  ;  a  servant 
comes  in  at  last !  But,  he  brings  a  tray.  It  is 
only  the  tea,  with  the  accompaniment  of  fallacious 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  25 

dry  biscuit.  We  exchange  amused  glances.  Bah  ! 
what  does  it  matter  ?  We  will  have  supper  at 
the  hotel.  Half -past  eleven !  Now  we  really 
must  go.  But  how  ?  By  the  lake  ?  Would 
there  still  be  boats  at  that  hour  ? 

"  No,  no,  by  the  land.  The  carriage  is  in 
readiness.  I  will  send  someone  with  you."  At 
the  other  side  of  the  house,  upon  the  threshold 
of  the  vestibule,  the  farewells  are  prolonged. 
They  make  us  promise  to  return  the  next  day, 
and  to  come  earlier,  that  we  may  enjoy  the  garden 
and  see  the  country  a  little.  So  we  roll  away 
through  the  unknown  country  and  the  dark 
night,  ourselves  all  illuminated  with  joy.  "  In 
Wagner's  own  carriage !  It  doesn't  seem 
possible  !  "  exclaims  Villiers,  patting  the  cushions. 
And  then  we  all  talk  at  once,  going  over  every 
detail  of  that  never-to-be-forgotten  day.  But 
the  pangs  of  hunger  are  tormenting  us  more  and 
more.  What  a  supper  we  will  have  as  soon  as 
we  reach  the  Hotel  du  Lac !  A  drowsy  boy 
rouses  himself  from  his  pallet  bed  to  open  the 
door  for  us.  "  May  we  have  supper  ? "  we 
request  of  him.  But  that  isn't  his  affair ;  he 
knows  nothing  about  it.  He  goes  back  to  bed, 


26  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

and  begins  to  snore.  So  we  go  wandering  through 
the  hotel,  trying  to  open  locked  doors,  ringing 
the  electric  bells  again  and  again.  Nothing ! 
Silence  everywhere,  and  solitude  and  sleep.  Ah 
well,  surely  we  ought  to  be  willing  to  suffer  a 
little  for  the  cause  that  we  defend ;  we  ought 
not  to  complain  over  one  day  of  fasting. 
And,  since  we  are  unable  to  avoid  it,  this 
ordeal  rather  pleases  us  ;  it  seems  fitting  and 
symbolic ;  the  emptiness  of  our  stomachs  permits 
us  the  better  to  listen  to  the  song  of  joy  in  our 
hearts,  to  feel  the  intoxication  of  our  minds ; 
and  so  we  go  very  happily  to  bed,  hoping  to  see 
again  in  our  dreams  the  sacred  promontory  over 
beyond  the  blue  lake,  where  we  shall  return 
to-morrow. 

IV 

And  that  second  day,  which  dawned  with  a 
beautiful  blue  sky,  how  sunny  and  radiant  it 
seemed  to  us  !  How  happy  we  were  and  how 
full  of  joyful  anticipation  !  We  knew  Richard 
Wagner  and  he  knew  us. 

"  Come  early  to-morrow,"  he  had  said  to  us. 
That  was  better  and  more  real  than  mere  polite- 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  27 

ness.  The  disciples  pleased  the  Master,  of  that 
we  were  blissfully  sure.  But,  all  the  same,  we 
must  not  arrive  too  soon  at  Tribschen,  and  how 
should  we  pass  the  time  until  the  fitting  moment 
arrived  ?  Villiers,  who  wished  to  be  very  smart, 
went  in  search  of  a  hairdresser,  and  fixed  his 
choice  upon  a  certain  Monsieur  Frey.  Installed 
in  the  chair,  a  towel  under  his  chin,  his  cheeks 
all  covered  with  soapsuds,  the  patient,  still  lost 
in  his  dream,  recalled  a  phrase  from  the  letter 
that  Wagner  had  written  me  about  the  Meister- 
singer.  "  My  barber  told  me  the  other  day, 
that  this  part  pleased  him  best  of  all."  So  the 
barbers  of  Lucerne  were  Wagnerians  ?  Then  he 
could  talk ;  and  with  no  further  hesitation  he 
entered  with  Monsieur  Frey  into  a  dissertation 
upon  the  music  of  the  future.  The  Swiss  Figaro 
did  his  best  to  fulfil  his  part,  and  the  talk 
being  prolonged,  Villiers  came  out  of  the  little 
shop  with  a  head  tightly  curled  all  over  like  an 
astrakhan  cap.  Thus  elaborated,  he  joined  us  upon 
the  wharf  at  the  edge  of  the  lake,  and  to  forget 
our  impatience  we  prowled  about  among  the  bales 
and  bundles  of  cordage.  My  companion  hummed 
a  motif  from  the  overture  to  the  Meistersinger, 


28  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

which  charmed  him  more  and  more.  He  tried 
to  prevail  upon  me  to  sing  at  the  same  time  the 
second  motif,  where  it  mingles  with  the  first. 

"  How  can  I,  in  the  open  streets  ?  They  would 
throw  us  both  into  the  lake  !  " 

"  Then  let  us  get  out  of  sight  of  the  passers-by." 

So  behold  us  forthwith  clambering  over  joists 
and  building  materials  of  all  kinds,  to  reach  a 
deserted  corner.  Villiers  was  enchanted  with 
our  humming,  which  we  had  to  recommence 
many  times.  His  quick  imagination  supplied 
all  that  was  lacking ;  he  fancied  he  could  hear 
the  whole  orchestra.  Suddenly  he  caught  sight 
of  something,  and  stopped  short,  his  clear  blue 
eyes  very  wide  open.  Staring  unwinkingly,  he 
began  to  laugh. 

"  What  on  earth  is  that  extraordinary  word, 
'  Dampfschifffahrtgesellschaft  ?  '  " 

True  enough,  there  was  the  word  in  big  letters 
on  a  board  painted  white,  high  up  between  two 
posts  driven  into  the  soil. 

"  Six  vowels  among  twenty-three  consonants, 
and  all  in  one  word  !  "  cried  Villiers.  "  What 
can  such  a  word  mean  ?  " 

And,   uniting  our  vague  notions   of  German, 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  29 

we  concluded  that  it  signified  "  Steamship 
Company,"  and  that  this  was  the  landing-place. 
In  fact,  beyond  the  poles  joined  by  the  plank, 
which  together  formed  a  sort  of  door-casing, 
there  was  a  wooden  staircase  which  led  to  a 
pontoon.  Swans  swam  about  in  the  blue  water 
as  it  lapped  against  the  piles,  and  the  sails, 
as  white  as  then*  wings,  bore  toward  the  distant 
Eden,  toward  the  promontory  which  the  sun 
at  that  moment  covered  with  a  golden  mist. 
4  What  time  is  it  ?  "  Every  few  moments  this 
question  was  asked.  At  last  the  time  came  to 
go  back  to  the  Hotel  du  Lac  for  dinner.  For, 
contrary  to  the  French  custom,  they  served  a 
very  hearty  dinner  there  at  one  o'clock,  and  if 
anything  further  was  desired,  a  very  light  supper 
at  eight ;  so  finally  we  understood  why,  on  the 
day  before,  it  had  seemed  to  us  that  they  never 
dined  at  Tribschen. 


Again  we  arrive  at  Tribschen.  The  children 
meet  us  and  run  on  before  us  to  the  drawing- 
room,  where  they  are  waiting  for  us.  With  what 


30  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

sincere  cordiality  they  welcome  us  !  We  are  no 
longer  the  unknown  people  of  yesterday.  Cos 
hardly  barks  at  all,  and  Russ,  the  black  New- 
foundland, without  moving  from  his  place  on  the 
steps,  slowly  sweeps  the  stone  with  his  plumy 
tail,  to  show  us  his  good  feeling. 

With  what  pleasure  in  its  restful  shade  we 
breathe  again  the  faintly  perfumed  air  of  this 
room.  We  must  sit  down  and  rest  a  little,  they 
say ;  but  the  Master,  full  of  good-humour  and 
high  spirits,  remains  standing.  He  strives  to 
comprehend  the  voluble  conversation  (overflowing 
with  enthusiasm,  interspersed  with  laughter)  of 
Villiers  de  PIsle-Adam,  and  he  imagines  that  if 
he  does  not  quite  get  the  full  meaning,  it  must 
be  the  fault  of  his  imperfect  understanding  of 
French.  No  one  of  us  dares  to  tell  him  that  in 
listening  to  Villiers  it  is  the  same  for  all,  that  he 
more  often  than  not  twists  his  language  into 
spirals  of  unintelligible  phrases,  through  which 
flash  both  light  and  wit.  When  one  knows  him 
well,  one  sees  only  these  flashes ;  but  the  Master 
does  not  know  him. 

So,  in  order  to  excuse  himself,  he  relates  to 
us  an  incident  that  took  place  once  when  he 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  31 

was  living  at  Zurich,  through  his  inability  to 
comprehend  French. 

An  orchestra  leader,  Alsacian  or  Belgian,  having, 
in  any  case,  a  peculiar  accent,  was  speaking  with 
him  of  the  different  ways  of  directing.  He  con- 
demned certain  habits  which  he  considered  hope- 
lessly bad,  and  emphasised  his  talk  with  one 
phrase  which  he  repeated  again  and  again. 

"  C'est  comme  je  vous  assure" 

Wagner  heard,  "  Vest  comme  chez  vvus  d  Zurich." 

Irritated,  at  first,  by  this  rude  assertion,  he 
ended  by  suddenly  growing  angry,  and  vehemently 
defending  the  Zurich  orchestra,  which  he  himself 
sometimes  conducted. 

His  interlocutor,  unable  to  understand  what 
had  caused  such  anger,  was  dismayed,  excused 
himself,  stammered,  and  a  long  time  passed  before 
it  was  made  clear. 

At  the  memory  of  this  misunderstanding, 
Wagner's  laugh  rang  out  clear  and  vibrant,  and 
with  all  our  hearts  we  laughed  with  him. 

VI 

The  Master  then  sat  down  at  the  piano,  and 
related  to  us  the  poem  of  Siegfried,  upon  which 


32  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

he  was  at  that  time  working.  He  played  the 
themes,  measure  by  measure,  and  declaimed  and 
sang  with  such  ardour,  such  vigour,  and  such  a 
perfect  expression  that  we  seemed  actually  to 
be  living  the  whole  drama.  The  hero,  at  the 
moment  of  re-forging  the  sword,  strikes  a  single 
blow  upon  the  anvil,  and  Mime,  terror-struck, 
falls  over  backward.  Wagner  rose  and  almost 
disappeared  entirely  in  the  great  violet  curtains, 
in  order  the  better  to  exemplify  the  fright  of  the 
gnome.  He  emerged  again  laughing,  and  de- 
clared that,  not  being  in  any  sense  a  pianist,  this 
music  of  the  future  was  too  difficult  for  him. 

"  I  will  outline  the  second  act  better,"  said  he ; 
and  he  revealed  to  us  the  whole  bird  scene  in  such 
a  delightful  way  that  no  later  execution  of  it, 
anywhere,  has  quite  exalted  us  to  the  height  of 
that  vivid  first  impression. 

VII 

It  is  a  little  cooler  now,  and  we  are  wandering 
through  the  paths  of  the  garden,  with  their  borders 
of  tender  green.  The  Master  wishes  to  show 
us  his  domain. 

All  about  us  the  children  run,  laughing  and 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  33 

calling  to  each  other  with  happy  voices.  Russ 
bounds  on  ahead,  picks  up  stones,  which  he  brings 
back  to  us  with  an  insinuating  air,  anxious  to 
draw  us  into  a  game,  but  Wagner  is  rather  grieved 
over  this  game.  "  That  is  a  bad  trick  I  taught 
him ;  now  I  cannot  break  him  of  it,  and  he 
damages  his  teeth  against  the  stones." 

The  Master  walks  rapidly  ;  he  guides  us  toward 
a  high  kiosk,  where  the  view,  he  says,  is  superb. 

In  truth,  it  is  a  ravishing  place.  The  house 
seems  half  buried  in  a  billow  of  verdure,  sheep 
browse  on  the  slopes  of  the  hills,  and  below,  on  the 
limpid  azure  of  the  lake,  white  sails  drift,  reflecting 
the  amethyst  hues  of  the  high  summits.  A  delicious 
light  bathes  in  serenity  all  this  wonderful  nature. 

Richard  Wagner,  with  both  hands  upon  the 
rustic  balustrade  of  the  kiosk,  stood  erect  and 
silent,  with  that  grave  and  solemn  expression 
which  came  to  him  suddenly  when  he  was  touched 
by  any  deep  emotion. 

It  was  he  whom  I  watched  now,  and  that  was 
an  unforgetable  instant :  his  eyes,  as  blue  as  the 
lake,  wide  open,  almost  staring,  seemed  to  absorb 
this  picture,  which  radiated  for  them  a  world  of 
thoughts ;  this  refuge,  this  exquisite  retreat, 


34  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

created  by  the  tenderness  of  a  much- loved  friend, 
who  had  known  how  to  brave  all,  and  to  face  the 
reprobation  of  the  world  with  head  erect,  in  order 
to  come  to  the  consolation  of  one  to  whom  she 
had  consecrated  herself  without  reserve,  at  the 
time  when  he  was  most  cruelly  pursued  by  the 
bitter  things  of  life ;  this  dear  solitude,  enlivened 
by  the  laughter  of  children,  where  the  blows  of 
destiny  could  reach  him  only  across  a  rampart  of 
love — it  was  with  a  very  tender  gratitude  that  he 
contemplated  it. 

He  understood  that  I  had  followed  his  thought, 
for  he  continued  aloud : — 

"  And  yet,"  said  he,  "  this  little  corner  of 
earth,  so  full  of  memories,  does  not  belong  to  me  ; 
but  I  intend  to  buy  a  small  piece  of  land,  just  by 
this  side  here,  so  that,  later,  the  children  may  be 
able  to  return  here,  and  at  least  retain  something 
of  this  nest  of  their  infancy." 

This  desire  was  not  realised.  The  Master, 
probably,  gave  up  the  idea. 

VIII 

Madam  Cosima  and  our  companions  rejoined 
us,  and  we  walked  a  long  time  in  that  limitless 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  35 

garden.  But  it  was  growing  late ;  we  could 
not  abuse  our  welcome.  We  wished  to  take 
leave  ;  they  exclaimed  at  that,  and  we  confessed, 
with  much  laughter,  our  fasting  of  the  day  before, 
our  culpable  habit  of  dining  in  the  evening. 
Then  the  Master  showed  a  real  chagrin  ;  he  could 
not  pardon  himself  for  having  forgotten  that 
French  customs  are  different  from  those  of  German 
Switzerland.  We  were  moved  almost  to  shame 
for  having  provoked  such  regret,  which  revealed 
to  us,  however,  the  keen  sensibility  and  the 
sensitive  kindness  of  this  much  misunderstood 
man. 

"  Beginning  with  to-morrow,"  cried  he,  "  a 
supper  shall  be  served  every  evening  here,  and 
then  you  surely  must  forgive  me  !  " 

IX 

At  the  end  of  the  drawing-room  at  Tribschen, 
to  the  left  in  coming  from  the  garden,  a  heavy 
portiere,  raised  by  a  cord,  allowed  one  a  glimpse 
of  a  very  small  room,  which  I  could  not  approach 
without  great  emotion.  It  was  the  sanctuary, 
the  Holy  of  Holies,  the  work-room  of  Richard 


36  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

Wagner !  Sombre  draperies,  a  restrained  half- 
light,  two  walls  covered  with  book-shelves,  filled 
with  splendid  works :  music,  poetry,  philosophy ; 
a  piano  of  a  special  design  (almost  an  altar), 
furnished  with  drawers  and  a  plane  like  a  table ; 
a  single  picture,  the  portrait  of  Ludwig  II.,  the 
royal  friend,  the  ministering  spirit :  '  The  man 
who,"  said  Wagner,  "  seems  to  have  been  sent 
to  me  from  heaven  !  "  What  a  beautiful,  refined 
face !  how  the  brown  tint  of  the  skin  and  the 
black  hair  bring  out  the  splendid  clearness  of  the 
eyes,  of  a  polar  blue,  and  sparkling  with  enthusiasm 
—eyes  that  seem  supernatural. 

One  and  all  we  love  him,  this  young  man ;  we 
consider  him  as  our  king,  our  chief  and  our  ally, 
since  he  has  the  same  faith  as  ourselves,  and, 
like  us,  is  in  the  ranks  of  the  disciples.  We  were 
destined  for  the  same  mission :  to  affirm  the 
divinity  of  a  man  of  genius,  to  be  the  mirrors 
reflecting  for  him  the  splendour  of  his  dreams  ; 
assuring  him  of  the  certainty  of  his  power ; 
soldiers  ready  to  endure  insults  and  blows  in  his 
defence,  who  would  gladly  fall  for  his  glory.  And 
this  king  is  stronger  than  we  are  for  the  combat ; 
his  sceptre  bears  more  weight  than  our  fists. 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  37 

Sometimes  escaping  from  the  court,  the  royal 
friend  came,  alone  and  incognito,  to  Tribschen, 
to  celebrate  the  Master's  birthday,  or  to  bring 
some  good  tidings.  As  the  house  was  not  large, 
it  was  in  this  little  room  that  they  arranged  a 
cot-bed  for  him.  And  here  he  spent  several  days, 
very  happy,  and  asking  only  to  be  treated  as  a 
humble  disciple. 

Wagner  surprised  me  to-day,  on  the  threshold 
of  this  little  study,  this  sanctuary  (into  which 
I  dared  not  go),  contemplating  the  piano,  the 
scattered  sheets,  where  the  ink  was  scarcely 
dry,  agitated  to  the  last  degree  by  the  human 
details  of  the  thing  that  seemed  to  me  so  com- 
pletely superhuman.  And  I  was  overcome, 
almost  to  suffocation,  by  hearing  suddenly  close 
by  my  side  the  voice  and  the  laugh  of  him  who 
seemed  to  me,  as  I  looked  back  through  the  ages, 
to  stand  with  Homer,  ^Eschylus,  Shakespeare, 
and  to  be  the  one  whom  I  would  still  have 
acclaimed  as  the  greatest  of  all. 

"  How  enthusiastic  you  are  !  "  cried  he.  "  You 
must  not  be  too  much  so,  or  your  health  will 
suffer."  He  spoke  jestingly,  but  the  kind  light 
in  his  eyes  told  me  much  that  his  laugh  disguised. 


38  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

X 

"  This  morning,"  said  Wagner  to  me,  "  my 
domestic,  Jacob,  declared  that  I  must  pass  the 
whole  day  without  him,  because  he  was  going 
to  Zug." 

"  '  Zug  !  Zug  ! '  "  That  word  is  on  the  lips 
of  everyone  in  Lucerne.  We  hear  it  constantly, 
and  I  thought  it  an  exclamation,  a  soothing  word, 
familiar  to  the  Swiss,  something  like  '  Zut.' ' 

"  Not  at  all.  Zug  is  a  little  village,  very  near 
here." 

"  And  what  is  there  so  attractive  about  it  ?  " 

"  Not  much,  ordinarily  ;  but  evidently  you  do 
not  know  that  the  Federal  shooting-match  has 
begun  at  Zug.  It  is  the  event  of  all  others  that 
develops  to  its  utmost  the  enthusiasm  of  all  the 
cantons.  A  hundred  thousand  francs  in  prizes, 
thirty  thousand  rifles  all  together.  Seriously, 
it  is  curious  and  interesting,  and  you  ought  to 
see  it." 

It  was  in  obedience  to  the  Master's  counsel,  and 
not  without  regret  at  leaving  him,  that  we  alighted 
a  few  hours  later,  at  the  Zug  station. 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  39 

XI 

A  hen  in  the  midst  of  her  chickens — that  is 
the  first  impression  of  the  little  village  of  Zug, 
with  its  belfry  towering  up  from  the  midst  of  the 
low  houses.  But  what  a  background  it  has !  The 
green  velvet  of  the  lowest  fold  of  the  mountains, 
which,  from  there,  stretch  away,  one  above  another, 
to  the  far-away  snows  of  rose  and  mauve  !  When 
one  draws  near  to  the  little  town  its  aspect  changes  ; 
now  one  sees  only  an  ancient  fortified  gate  having 
in  its  midst  an  enormous  dial.  Large  flags  wave 
slowly  in  the  light  breeze  and  the  many- coloured 
banners  of  the  different  Swiss  cantons  hang  from 
every  angle  of  the  high  roof  with  its  many  turrets, 
which  surmounts  this  gate.  Garlands  of  leaves 
festoon  in  many  curves,  the  pointed  arch  cut 
in  the  ancient  structure.  And  when  one  has 
passed  under  the  arch,  the  street  stretching  away 
gives  one  the  illusion  of  a  Chinese  street,  with 
its  houses  of  unequal  height  and  its  perspective 
of  multi-coloured  streamers.  But  one  must  go 
by  another  route  to  reach  the  field  where  the 
Federal  shooting  is  established.  A  frightful  up- 
roar leads  us  unerringly  to  the  place.  Temporary 


40  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

barracks  in  the  open  fields,  a  crowd  of  people, 
gay  and  solemn,  forming  a  procession.  Here 
and  there  the  picturesque  costumes  worn  by  the 
natives  of  some  cantons  still  faithful  to  the  old 
usages. 

Bernese  with  full  gathered  skirts,  half  concealed 
by  the  apron  of  silk,  of  the  colour  of  a  pigeon's 
neck,  with  the  long  corsage  of  black  velvet,  held 
by  silver  chains  to  the  plaited  guimpes,  and  in 
their  hair  the  great  historic  pins. 

There  are  peasants  from  Fribourg  clothed  in 
short  breeches,  with  brown  jackets,  large  hats 
on  their  heads,  and  leaning  on  their  ashen  staffs. 
There  are  even  some  Tyrolese,  drawn  from  far 
away  by  their  curiosity,  who  please  the  eye  by 
their  bright  costumes,  their  narrow  tricoloured 
aprons,  their  pointed  hats  of  black  felt,  orna- 
mented with  gold  braid  and  worn  very  low  over 
the  forehead. 

We  have  reached  the  very  heart  of  the  hubbub, 
and  it  is  like  that  of  a  frightful  battle  ;  the  whist- 
ling of  thousands  of  balls,  which  cut  the  air  with- 
out cessation,  produces  the  strangest  effect  upon 
the  ear.  One  can  imagine  oneself  wrapped  in 
a  network  of  vibrating  iron  filaments  which 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  41 

weave  across  and  through  each  other,  forming 
a  lattice,  and  the  illusion  is  so  complete  that  one 
dares  not  advance,  for  fear  of  injuring  these 
threads.  Sheds,  divided  into  compartments  and 
facing  in  different  directions,  divide  the  plain, 
and  in  each  compartment  very  busy  men  hastily 
load  the  rifles  which  they  hand  to  the  sharp- 
shooters, who  may  be  seen  from  behind  taking 
ami  at  a  far-away  target. 

Half -unconsciously  we  allow  ourselves  to  be 
pushed  into  one  of  the  boxes,  and  once  there, 
a  Swiss,  with  the  cordial  familiarity  which  pre- 
vails in  a  free  country,  shouts  something  into 
Villiers'  ear.  He  does  not  hear,  but  they  put  a 
rifle  between  his  hands,  and  now  behold  him,  in 
his  turn,  shouldering  and  sighting  with  great  care ! 

What  has  happened  ?  No  one  heard  the  de- 
tonation above  the  uproar,  but  there  is  a  sudden 
movement  of  joyous  excitement,  and  the  far- 
away target,  moved  by  a  spring,  shakes  and 
salutes  the  conqueror.  Villiers  has  made  a  hit ! 
They  drag  him  away  ;  some  individuals  furnished 
with  enormous  trombones  appear  from  somewhere 
and,  forming  two  lines,  make  an  escort  for  him. 
By  their  puffed-out  and  crimson  cheeks  rather 


42  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

than  by  sound,  one  surmises  the  triumphant 
fanfare.  They  stop  at  length  before  a  gaily- 
painted  kiosk,  surrounded  with  glass  cases,  where 
are  displayed  the  prizes  for  the  best  marksmen. 

There  is  a  framed  portrait  of  Garibaldi,  a  pair 
of  gold  spectacles,  a  set  of  silver,  a  jewel-box 
containing  a  collection  of  hundred-sous  pieces 
with  the  effigy  of  Louis  Philippe,  arranged  in 
the  shape  of  a  star,  and  many  other  marvels, 
from  among  which  Villiers  has  only  to  choose ; 
but,  overcome  by  laughter,  he  is  unable  to 
decide.  Finally,  he  unhooks  a  necklace  of 
corals  and  thrusts  it  in  his  pocket  while  some- 
one fastens  a  commemorative  medal  to  his 
hat,  where  it  shines  hi  the  midst  of  a  flutter  of 
ribbons.  The  victor  then  wishes  to  steal  away, 
but  the  circle  of  trombones  narrows  about  him 
and  urges  him  toward  a  pavilion  consecrated  to 
Bacchus,  where  a  commissary  of  the  Fair,  mounted 
upon  a  table,  solemnly  holds  out  to  him  the 
glorious  cup,  full  of  the  bitter  wine  of  Sarli,  which 
he  (concealing  a  grimace  of  distaste)  is  obliged 
to  empty  with  the  best  grace  possible. 

That  evening  at  supper,  Wagner  was  much 
interested  in  the  adventure,  and  in  order  to  do 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  43 

honour   to   the   skilful   marksman,   he   uncorked 
some  champagne. 

"  It  is  excellent,"  he  said.  "  My  friend  Chandon 
sent  it  to  me." 

XII 

One  day  my  companions,  having  articles  to 
write,  remained  at  the  Hotel  du  Lac,  and  I 
arrived  alone  at  Tribschen  soon  after  the  two 
o'clock  dinner,  a  little  fearful  of  having  come, 
perhaps,  too  soon.  The  clear  sky  made  the 
lake  very  blue  and  the  fresh  green  of  the 
banks  mirrored  itself  as  usual  in  the  tranquil 
water.  I  disembarked  at  the  point  of  the  pro- 
montory by  the  foot  of  the  garden,  under  the 
little  shed  which  sheltered  the  wooden  steps. 

As  there  was  neither  door,  nor  doorkeeper, 
nor  bell,  I  arrived  without  giving  any  signal, 
and,  walking  slowly,  fearing  to  find  my  hosts 
still  at  table,  I  took  the  least  direct  route  to  the 
house,  through  a  charming,  very  shady  path 
which  follows  the  edge  of  the  lake.  It  grows 
steep  very  quickly,  and  the  slope  which,  covered 
with  bushes,  topples  down  to  the  water,  has  the 
appearance  of  a  picturesque  little  precipice,  and 


44  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

nothing  could  be  more  lovely  to  see  than  the 
stains  of  azure  made  by  the  lake  through  the 
interlacing  of  the  branches.  The  children  have 
named  this  corner,  where  they  are  forbidden  to 
go  alone,  for  fear  of  the  descents,  "  The  Park  of 
Brigands,"  and  they  tell  long  tales  about  the 
adventures  which  come  to  pass  there  after  night- 
fall. At  the  moment  when  I  came  out  from 
the  shelter  of  the  trees,  the  eldest  of  the  little 
girls  saw  me  and  came  running,  signalling  to 
me  not  to  speak  or  make  any  noise.  When 
she  reached  me,  she  drew  me,  without  a  word, 
through  clumps  of  trees  where  I  nearly  lost 
my  hat,  toward  a  sort  of  little  summer-house 
of  verdure,  very  near  the  house,  where  the 
coffee  had  been  served.  The  Master  was  there, 
seated  on  a  cane  easy-chair,  smoking  a  cigar ; 
Cosima,  standing,  peeped  through  the  interstices 
of  the  bushes,  and  made  me  a  sign  to  keep  silent : 
but  Wagner,  looking  at  me  fiercely,  said  in  a  low 
tone,  "  What,  did  you  bring  all  these  people  ?  " 

"  What  people  ?  " 

Cosima  called  me,  by  a  gesture,  near  to  her, 
and  from  there  I  could  see  why  my  hosts  were 
keeping  so  quietly  out  of  sight.  A  coach  full  of 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  45 

tourists  had  stopped  before  the  steps  of  the  house. 
A  personage  clothed  entirely  in  brown  holland, 
against  which  appeared  the  black  cord  of  a  lorg- 
nette, was  interviewing  the  servant.  I  thought 
at  first  sight  that  it  was  a  question  of  some  tiresome 
acquaintance  whom  they  were  endeavouring  to  get 
rid  of  as  politely  as  possible ;  but  I  soon  compre- 
hended that  these  were  foreign  tourists,  entire 
strangers,  who,  with  an  incredible  assurance, 
insisted  upon  visiting  Richard  Wagner.  This 
excursion  was  doubtless  fitted  in  between  the 
ascension  of  the  Righi  and  the  promenade  to  the 
Lion  of  Lucerne.  They  insisted  with  unparal- 
lelled  impertinence,  feigning  not  to  comprehend 
the  assertions  of  the  servant,  prolonging  the 
discussion  wilfully,  while,  in  the  little  grove 
near-by,  one  dared  not  breathe,  for  fear  of  being 
discovered.  At  length  Jacob  persuaded  these 
intruders  that  the  Master  was  absent.  The 
carriage  was  started  again  amid  the  creaking  of 
old  iron,  the  gravel  of  the  drive  crunched  under 
the  wheels,  and  the  vehicle,  crowded  with  green 
umbrellas,  blue  veils,  and  red  shawls,  went  back 
down  the  hill. 

"  At  last  we  are  free !  "  cried  the  Master,  rising. 


46  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

"  How,"  said  I,  "  could  you  believe  that  I 
would  bring  such  a  rabble  here  ?  " 

"  You  arrived  at  the  same  time,"  said  he ; 
"  but  I  ought  not  to  have  suspected  you." 

"  Nor  to  have  given  me  that  terrible  look  !  " 

"  The  look  was  for  the  tourists,"  said  he,  laugh- 
ing. "  I  am  simply  beset  by  the  audacity  of 
these  strangers,"  added  he.  "  This  scene  is  very 
often  repeated.  The  worst  of  it  is  that  Jacob 
is  against  me.  He  finds  all  these  people  very 
distinguished,  and  cannot  understand  why  I 
refuse  to  see  them." 

"  What  a  queer  situation  it  would  be  if  one 
were  to  receive  them.  What  would  they  say, 
and  what  attitude  of  mind  would  they  reveal  ?  " 

"  They  relate  a  curious  anecdote  of  Goethe 
with  regard  to  a  similar  adventure,"  said  Wagner. 
"  He  was  so  often  intruded  upon  by  the  curious 
in  his  house  in  Weimar,  that  one  day,  made 
impatient  by  the  determination  of  an  unknown 
Englishman  to  force  an  entrance,  he  suddenly 
ordered  his  servant  to  show  him  in.  The  English- 
man entered.  Goethe  planted  himself  erect  in 
the  centre  of  the  room,  his  arms  crossed,  his  eyes 
on  the  ceiling,  motionless  like  a  statue. 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  47 

"  Surprised  for  the  moment,  the  stranger  soon 
comprehended  the  situation,  and  without  being 
in  the  least  disconcerted,  he  put  on  his  glasses, 
walked  slowly  round  Goethe,  inspected  him  from 
head  to  foot,  and  went  out  without  saluting.  It 
is  difficult  to  say,"  concluded  the  Master,  "  which 
of  the  two  showed  the  keener  wit." 

XIII 

Every  evening  at  eight  o'clock — although, 
honestly  ashamed  of  having  been  the  cause  of 
such  a  change  in  the  household,  we  made  every 
effort  to  prevent  it — every  evening  at  eight 
o'clock,  the  door  of  the  drawing-room  opened 
and  Jacob  announced  the  supper. 

The  dining-room  was  rather  small  and  narrow, 
and  was  nearly  filled  by  the  oblong  table,  at  one 
end  of  which  Wagner  took  his  place. 

To  the  supper,  consisting  of  cold  meats,  salad, 
cakes  and  fruit,  the  Master  loved  to  add  some  of 
the  champagne  of  his  friend  Chandon,  and  this, 
he  said,  we  could  drink  without  hesitation  be- 
cause his  French  admirer  had  presented  him  with 
more  than  he  could  use. 

Wagner  enjoyed  this  supper  and  declared  that 


48  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

he  could  not  understand  why  he  had  not  instituted 
it  long  before. 

"  We  never  thought  of  it,"  said  he.  "  It  is 
an  incredible  oversight  not  to  have  thought  of 
a  thing  so  agreeable,  even  indispensable !  In 
future,  it  shall  always  be  served,  and  we  shall 
bless  the  reform  that  was  brought  about  by  your 
fasting  of  the  first  evening." 

We  lingered  at  table,  talking.  The  Master's 
words,  now  violent  and  impassioned,  now  joyous, 
but  always  sincere,  made  an  intense,  almost 
a  magnetic  impression  upon  us.  We  passed 
through  all  the  phases  that  they  described- 
enthusiasm,  indignation,  despair.  Each  circum- 
stance that  he  recalled  of  his  life,  so  full  of  vexa- 
tions, "  les  mis&rdbilit$s"  as  he  said,  he  seemed 
to  live  over  again,  and  we  also  endured  with 
him  all  the  heart-breaks  and  the  pangs.  Yet, 
if  he  saw  us  becoming  too  deeply  moved,  in  order 
that  we  might  recover  ourselves,  he  would  give 
expression,  without  any  change  of  voice,  to  some 
irresistible  bit  of  fun,  and  end  by  making  us  shout 
with  laughter. 

The  pug-dog,  "  Cos,"  having  a  slight  irritation 
of  the  skin,  was  on  a  diet,  and  meat  had  been 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  49 

forbidden  him.  If,  unable  to  resist  his  urgent 
pleadings,  one  of  the  company  stealthily  gave 
him  a  little  morsel,  Wagner  stopped  abruptly 
in  whatever  he  was  saying,  and  emphatically 
repeated  the  doctor's  orders.  It  was  wonderful, 
that  considerate  thoughtfulness,  in  which  nothing 
escaped  him ;  and  it  revealed  to  us  the  infinite 
goodness,  the  boundless  altruism  of  that  great 
man,  with  his  overwhelming  personality. 

XIV 

Alas  !  we  were  none  of  us  capitalists.  This 
pious  pilgrimage  to  the  temple  of  genius  and  our 
glorious  sojourn  there  must  be  paid  for,  and  the 
money  must  be  earned. 

We  had  undertaken  to  send  to  the  different 
journals  exhaustive  accounts  of  the  Munich  Ex- 
position, with  letters  of  travel,  and  above  all, 
items  of  news  about  Richard  Wagner,  who  at 
that  time  was  the  subject  of  many  discussions 
and  disputes.  Living,  as  he  did,  in  strict  seclusion, 
he  aroused  the  curiosity  of  the  people  to  the 
highest  point. 

Not    without    misgivings,    I    had    written    an 


50  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

article  for  Le  Rappel,  entitled  "  Richard  Wagner 
at  Home." 

I  did  not  enlarge  upon  this  to  the  Master  him- 
self, and  I  sincerely  hoped  he  would  never  hear 
of  it ;  but  someone,  believing  it  would  please 
him,  sent  him  the  article. 

He  was  angry. 

"  A  discord  already ! "  he  cried.  Then  he 
declared  to  Cosima  that  his  house  and  all  things 
relating  to  his  private  life,  including  the  dogs, 
were  to  him  like  the  mysterious  jewel  of  his 
destiny,  and  that  he  experienced  actual  terror 
at  seeing  them  mentioned  in  the  papers. 

Cosima  did  her  utmost  to  excuse  and  defend 
me,  and  the  Master  was  appeased.  But  a  Lucerne 
leaflet,  the  Journal  des  Etrangers,  took  upon  itself 
to  reprint  the  article,  thereby  drawing  to  the 
vicinity  of  Tribschen  a  swarm  of  boats  filled 
with  inquisitive  observers,  and  Wagner  was  freshly 
annoyed.  He  felt  a  real  chagrin,  he  said,  because 
he  could  not  endure  such  things  from  his  friends, 
and  he  wished  to  consider  us  his  friends.  At 
length,  having  given  him  my  promise  not  to 
repeat  the  offence,  he  pardoned  it ;  and  a  few 
days  later,  in  order  to  amuse  me,  he  gave  me  the 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  51 

following  letter — to  read  and  then  destroy — 
which  had  made  them  laugh  heartily,  and  which 
a  lady  of  Thonon  had  been  inspired  to  write  by 
my  article,  "  Richard  Wagner  at  Home." 

"  My  dear  Sir, 

"  Pray  pardon  me  for  writing  to  you  in  this  way, 
but  I  have  just  seen,  in  a  newspaper,  an  article 
about  you,  and  it  is  with  the  deepest  emotion 
that  I  have  read  all  the  eulogies  it  contains,  for, 
my  dear  Sir,  I  see  that  you,  also,  have  passed 
through  evil  days.  Being  myself,  at  the  present 
time,  in  the  same  unfortunate  position,  I  can  the 
more  deeply  sympathise  with  you,  my  dear  Sir. 

"  I  was  brought  up  amid  the  greatest  luxury, 
and  was  the  object  of  every  care  and  consideration. 
Unhappily  for  me,  family  misfortunes  and  reverses 
came  upon  me,  and  we  lost  all.  Those  who  used 
to  call  themselves  our  friends  no  longer  know  us. 

"  Thank  God,  I  have  had  the  best  possible 
education.  I  am  passionately  fond  of  music, 
but,  alas !  since  our  misfortunes,  I  have  not 
touched  a  piano,  and  the  fact  that  I  have  not  the 
means  to  procure  one  is  an  immense  deprivation 
and  a  real  grief  to  me. 

"  Why  am  I  not  close  to  you,  my  dear  Sir ! 


52  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

In  that  case,  I  feel  sure  that  you  would  not 
refuse  me  admission  to  your  house,  and  a  place 
at  your  piano. 

"  As  for  me,  I  have  five  children,  and  I  have 
not  the  means  for  a  home,  but  if  I  could  be  near 
you,  my  dear  Sir,  it  seems  to  me  that  I  should  be 
happy. 

"  I  should  be  indifferent  to  all  other  privations, 
if  I  were  able  to  cultivate  the  art  which  is  so  dear 
to  me. 

"  I  foresee  your  astonishment,  my  dear  Sir, 
when  you  read  my  letter ;  but  if  I  could  only  see 
you,  you  would  no  longer  be  surprised.  I  know 
beforehand  that  your  house  will  be  mine,  and 
your  piano  will  be  mine.  .  .  ." 

"  Your  piano  will  be  mine.  .  .  ."  That  phrase 
remained  famous  for  a  long  time  at  Tribschen. 

XV 

One  day,  having  landed  at  Tribschen,  as  I 
reached  the  house,  I  heard  through  the  wide-open 
windows  of  the  drawing-room,  mingling  with  the 
light  voices  and  laughter  of  the  children,  the  sound 
of  a  curious  melody.  What  could  be  happening  ? 
Not  wishing  to  interrupt,  I  advanced  very  care- 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  53 

fully  in  order  not  to  be  heard  on  the  gravelled 
path,  and,  having  climbed  the  steps,  I  saw  a 
delightful  picture. 

In  the  centre  of  the  room,  the  four  little  girls, 
the  youngest  of  whom  was  hardly  three,  were 
dancing.  Wagner,  at  the  piano,  provided  the 
music.  The  smallest  child  laughed  with  delight, 
revealing  all  her  little  new  teeth,  as  she  strove 
to  follow  the  steps  of  the  older  ones.  Her  tiny 
feet  tapped  the  floor  vigorously,  out  of  time  with 
the  rhythm  which  the  player,  himself  laughing 
and  exclaiming  as  much  as  the  dancers,  neverthe- 
less marked  with  much  force.  When  they  grew 
tired  of  dancing,  I  went  in. 

"  Oh,  did  you  see  ? "  cried  Senta,  running 
toward  me.  "  That  is  the  Tailors'  Quadrille. 
Papa  composed  it  for  us." 

"The  Tailors'  Quadrille."  Music  of  Richard 
Wagner !  If  one  could  only  remember  that 
music  now !  If  one  could  only  know,  at  least, 
that  it  is  written  down  and  preserved !  As  for 
me,  I  seem  to  hear  it  again  when  I  recall  that 
scene,  which  I  remember  in  every  detail,  and 
which  is,  even  to-day,  as  vivid  and  living  as  it 
is  exquisite ! 


54  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

XVI 

Villiers  had  some  very  singular  traits  of  character 
to  which  his  old  friends  paid  no  attention,  but 
which  never  failed  to  astonish  those  who  knew 
him  but  slightly  and  had  never  been  forewarned. 
He  experienced,  on  occasions,  a  sort  of  nervous 
terror  which  he  did  not  even  attempt  to  resist. 

For  instance,  one  day  as  he  was  talking  with 
some  one  at  a  street  corner,  he  received  in  his 
eye  an  infinitesimal  spatter  of  saliva.  Seized 
with  a  sudden  panic,  Villiers  darted  away  from 
his  amazed  interlocutor,  and  with  all  speed  made 
for  the  nearest  pharmacy. 

His  vivid  imagination  had  instantly  foreseen 
all  the  possibilities  of  calamity,  by  this  venomous 
drop  he  felt  himself  inoculated  with  the  most 
baleful  maladies.  He  saw  himself  condemned, 
lost !  To  quiet  him,  the  chemist  with  great  haste 
had  made  a  point  of  bathing  his  eye  in  all  sorts 
of  supposedly  powerful  lotions. 

One  afternoon  at  Tribschen,  Villiers  was  play- 
ing with  the  children ;  tossing  a  ball,  which,  to 
their  great  glee,  he  sent  very  high  in  the  air. 
Russ,  the  Newfoundland,  bounding  from  place 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  55 

to  place  and  barking,  did  his  best  to  join  in  the 
sport. 

But  once,  as  he  gave  a  strong  impetus  to  the 
ball,  Villiers'  recoiling  fist  struck  a  sharp  blow 
on  the  dog's  jowl,  drawing  from  him  a  reproach- 
ful whine.  Villiers  grew  pale  as  he  examined 
his  hand,  and  found  a  red  mark  where  the  dog's 
tooth  had  lightly  scratched  the  skin ;  then,  with 
one  haggard  look  at  us,  he  turned  and  fled,  running 
as  only  he  could  run. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  Where  is  he  going  ?  " 
cried  Wagner  in  dismay. 

Some  answer  had  to  be  made. 

"  Oh,  it  is  nothing.  He  struck  his  hand  against 
the  teeth  of  poor  Russ,  and  grazed  the  skin." 

"  Yes,  I  know  ;  but  it  did  not  bleed.  Is  that 
why  he  grew  so  pale  ?  " 

"  A  brain  like  his  receives  quick  suggestions ; 
in  the  flash  of  an  eye  his  thoughts  fly  to  the  very 
limit  of  possible  consequences.  Villiers  doubtless 
believes  himself  in  danger  of  hydrophobia,  and 
as  in  such  case  delay  adds  to  the  danger,  he  is 
running  as  fast  as  he  can  to  Lucerne,  to  have 
the  wound  cauterised." 

"  But  there  is  no  wound." 


56  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

Wagner  received  an  unpleasant  impression. 
He  was  clearly  disturbed  by  Villiers,  whose  con- 
versation he  found  it  so  difficult  to  understand, 
and  whose  character  he  could  not  comprehend. 

But  it  was  best  to  laugh  it  off.  The  involuntary 
culprit,  good  old  Russ,  was  in  perfect  health, 
and  there  could  not  be  any  danger. 

When  Villiers,  feeling  rather  sheepish,  returned 
to  Tribschen  on  the  following  day,  Wagner,  as  soon 
as  he  saw  him  in  the  distance,  made  a  pretence 
of  extreme  terror,  and  exclaimed, 

"He  is  mad!    He  is  mad  !" 

And  as  Villiers  with  a  wry  smile  approached 
nearer  to  him,  he  broke  into  a  run,  crying  out, 
"  Do  not  bite  me !  "  Then,  as  if  to  escape  from 
the  danger,  he  climbed  with  extraordinary  agility 
to  the  very  top  of  a  pine-tree. 

XVII 

The  Master  asked  me  if  I  knew  the  Military 
March  he  had  dedicated  to  the  King  of  Bavaria. 
He  had  on  his  piano  a  copy  of  this  piece,  arranged 
for  four  hands. 

"  Let  us  play  it,"  said  he.  "  But  I  warn  you 
that  I  play  the  piano  very  badly." 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  57 

What  of  my  playing,  then !  But  I  felt  that  I 
must  not  disclose  my  weakness,  that,  at  any  cost, 
this  wonderful,  rare  moment  must  be  enshrined 
hi  my  memory : — to  have  played  a  duet  with 
Richard  Wagner,  if  it  were  only  a  few  bars  ! 

He  took  the  upper  part,  and  as  the  bass  is  more 
difficult  for  me,  that  made  the  matter  worse. 
But  I  seated  myself  courageously,  mentally  de- 
termined to  make  every  effort  of  which  I  was 
capable. 

We  began  to  play,  without  stumbling.  I  felt 
as  though  I  were  a  somnambulist  walking  on  a 
narrow  ledge,  and  I  seemed  to  have  been  doing 
so  for  a  very  long  time. 

But  at  last,  on  the  third  page,  Wagner  himself 
hesitated  and  then  stopped,  declaring  that  part 
too  difficult. 

"  How  well  you  keep  the  time  !  "  he  exclaimed. 
And  then  he  complimented  me  upon  my  way 
of  rolling  the  tremolos.  That  particular  merit  was 
most  assuredly  brought  to  light  by  the  emotion 
of  the  moment,  as  I  had  never  known  of  it 
before. 

My  tremolo,  moreover,  remained  celebrated  at 
Tribschen — and  even  at  Wahnfried — for  I  have 


58  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

lived  upon  my  reputation,  and,  despite  all  solicita- 
tions, I  have  never  risked  attempting  it  again. 

Wagner  made  me  a  present  of  that  copy  of  the 
Cavalry  March  which  I  had  so  anxiously  de- 
ciphered, and  he  wrote  above  the  first  line  : 

"  A  Cheval !      A  Quatre  Mains." 

xvm 

"  I  wish  to  say  to  you,"  announced  the  Master, 
one  day  as  we  arrived,  "  that  you  are  invited 
by  me  to  make  an  excursion  into  a  very  interesting 
corner  of  Switzerland  —  the  country  of  William 
Tell.  The  trip  is  all  planned,  and  everything  is 
arranged." 

Again  we  were  rather  embarrassed,  and  en- 
deavoured to  protest.  But  Madam  Cosima  made 
signs  to  me,  and,  coming  nearer,  said  in  a  low 
voice : 

"  Do  not  refuse  :  he  would  be  angry.  And  let 
him  manage  it  all ;  let  him  take  the  lead,  if  you 
do  not  wish  to  grieve  him." 

"  The  weather  is  beautiful,"  continued  Wagner. 
"  We  ought  not  to  wait.  If  it  is  convenient  to 
you,  let  us  start  to-morrow." 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  59 

"  Joyfully,  Master." 

"  Then  that  is  agreed  upon.  We  shall  begin 
the  journey  by  coach,  and  will  call  for  you  at  the 
Hotel  du  Lac." 

"  At  what  hour  ?  " 

"  Ah  !  as  to  that,  it  must  be  early  in  the  morning 
in  order  to  avoid  the  great  heat.     Be  ready  at 
half -past  five." 
*    "  Half-past  five.    We  shall  be  ready." 

The  next  day,  before  day  in  fact,  two  carriages 
stopped  before  the  Hotel  du  Lac.  Wagner  was 
alone  in  one :  Madam  Cosima  and  her  daughter 
Senta  occupied  the  other. 

We  descended  hurriedly,  all  ready  to  go,  if 
still  a  little  sleepy.  Villiers,  very  much  flurried, 
instead  of  going  directly  to  the  carriage,  tried  to 
get  into  the  little  shop  of  Monsieur  Frey,  close  at 
hand ;  but  the  amiable  hairdresser  was  not  yet 
awake,  and  his  disappointed  client  was  forced  to 
go  without  being  curled.  He  went  with  me  in 
Wagner's  carriage,  which  took  the  lead,  and  the 
expedition  started  on  its  way. 

What  roads  we  travelled,  what  landscapes  un- 
folded before  us  during  that  radiant  and  never- 
to-be-forgotten  morning,  I  should  be  quite  unable 


60  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

to  relate,  for  I  avow  that  I  saw  nothing !  When 
one  has  gazed  at  the  sun,  for  a  long  time  one  sees 
nothing  more  than  a  flame  which  comes  between 
the  eyes  and  all  other  things.  So  it  was  with 
me ;  the  face  of  the  Master  masked  all  Nature, 
so  that  I  saw  only  that.  I  remember  very  well 
that  the  slanting  rays  of  the  rising  sun  enveloped 
Wagner,  and  cast  a  light  on  his  under-lip ;  this 
light  sparkled  at  every  inflexion,  and  his  words 
seemed  like  stars. 

I  had  questioned  him  with  regard  to  Mendels- 
sohn: the  works  of  Mendelssohn  had  a  great 
charm  for  me,  which  endured  in  spite  of  my 
Wagnerian  exclusiveness,  a  fact  of  which  I  was 
a  little  ashamed. 

"  Mendelssohn  is  a  great  landscape-painter," 
said  he  to  me,  "  and  his  palette  has  a  richness 
that  is  unequalled.  No  one  else  transposes  the 
external  beauty  of  things  into  music  as  he  does. 
The  Caye  of  Fingal,  among  others,  is  an  admirable 
picture.  He  is  able,  conscientious,  and  clever. 
Yet,  in  spite  of  all  these  gifts,  he  fails  to  move 
us  to  the  depths  of  the  soul :  it  is  as  if  he  painted 
only  the  appearance  of  sentiment,  and  not  the 
sentiment  itself." 


6i 

Before  noon  we  expected  to  reach  an  inn, 
where  we  should  try  to  get  luncheon,  or  rather, 
the  German  dinner.  At  that  point  the  coaches 
were  to  be  abandoned,  and  the  journey  would 
be  continued  by  steamboat. 

For  a  long  time  we  skirted  the  edge  of  a  lake, 
very  blue  between  its  green  banks — that  is  all 
I  remember  about  it ;  then  stopped  in  front  of 
a  commonplace  little  house  by  the  side  of  the 
road.  Where  this  was  I  do  not  know.  A  recent 
study  of  Baedeker  makes  me  suppose  that  it  was 
at  a  place  called  Brunnen. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  road  was  the  lake, 
and  the  landing-place  for  the  boats  was  almost 
in  front  of  the  house. 

There  was  nothing  to  indicate  that  it  was  an 
inn,  but  the  Master  knew  the  people,  and  while 
we  went  upstairs  to  a  room  on  the  first  floor, 
furnished  only  with  a  round  table,  some  chairs, 
and  an  old  piano,  he  conferred  with  the  pro- 
prietor and  arranged  the  menu.  He  returned  to 
us  triumphant,  and  cried : 

"  We  shall  have  '  un  druide  '  of  ancient  Gaul !  " 

The  meaning  of  this  terrible  pun  did  not  strike 
us  at  first,  but  we  laughed  immoderately  when 


62  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

we  found  that  it  was  a  question  of  "  une  truite  " 
(a  trout) ! 

Two  windows  of  the  little  room  that  we  were 
in  faced  the  lake,  a  third,  a  side  window,  was 
open  and  overlooked  the  court,  where  a  blacksmith 
was  at  work.  Wagner  listened  to  the  ringing 
stroke  of  the  hammer  on  the  anvil.  Suddenly 
he  opened  the  piano  and  began  to  play  the  motif 
of  Siegfried  forging  the  sword.  At  the  measure 
where  the  blade  is  struck  he  stopped,  and  it  was 
the  blacksmith  who,  striking  the  iron  with  an 
astonishing  precision,  unconsciously  completed 
the  theme. 

"  You  see,"  said  the  Master,  "  how  well  I  have 
calculated  the  time,  and  how  exactly  the  blow  falls." 

But  "  le  druide  "  made  his  entrance,  and  we 
proceeded  to  render  him  the  honours  that  he 
merited. 

XIX 

Wagner  was  an  admirable  organiser.  Just  as 
the  coffee  was  finished  and  the  cigarettes  smoked, 
we  heard  the  whistle  of  the  steamboat,  and  had  only 
to  cross  the  road  and  go  aboard.  What  is  there  to 
tell  about  this  voyage,  except  that  there  are  some 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  63 

moments  in  life  when  all  nature  is  illuminated 
by  the  light  that  you  carry  within  yourself ; 
when  the  air  seems  more  limpid,  the  sky  more 
luminous,  the  water  more  transparent ;  when  all 
vibrates  harmoniously  throughout  the  scene  which 
envelops  your  joy. 

Certain  it  is  that  there  was  never  for  me  such 
a  blue  lake  between  such  fresh  hills,  and  yet  I 
did  not  see  them.  The  face  of  the  Master,  his 
beaming  eyes,  where  blended  the  most  beautiful 
shades  of  sapphire — that  was  what  I  saw,  and  I 
said  to  Madam  Cosima,  who  thought  quite  as  I 
did- 

"  Now,  at  last,  I  comprehend  that  happiness 
of  paradise,  so  extolled  by  believers,  the  seeing 
of  the  Gods  face  to  face !  " 

The  setting  sun  illumined  a  beatified  sky 
when  the  boat  stopped  at  the  last  station.  The 
lake  appeared  to  end  there,  and  I  believe  the 
little  port  where  we  disembarked  was  called  Treib, 
and  from  there  one  ascended  to  Seelisberg. 

I  was  altogether  unacquainted  with  the  previous 
life  of  Richard  Wagner ;  I  knew  nothing  of  his 
political  exile  or  of  his  long  sojourn  in  this  country 
where  he  was  leading  us  :  I  had  no  idea  of  the 


64  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

ordeals  he  had  passed  through,  of  the  heart-breaks 
which  had  preceded  the  consoling  lull  of  the 
present  hour,  this  happy  time  of  renewed  inspira- 
tion, during  which  I  had  the  good  fortune  to  find 
him  so  full  of  joy,  of  energy,  and  of  serenity. 

I  was,  therefore,  very  much  surprised,  delight- 
fully surprised,  by  the  scene  which  followed  his 
landing.  Before  he  put  his  foot  on  shore  he  had 
been  recognised.  Very  soon  a  crowd  assembled : 
boatmen,  residents,  attendants,  all  hurried  toward 
him,  and  with  wonderful  enthusiasm  acclaimed 
Richard  Wagner,  pressing  his  hands,  kissing  his 
garments  with  a  sort  of  adoration.  The  Master 
thanked  them  laughing,  but  with  wet  eyes.  He 
drew  us  quickly  away  from  the  crowd. 

"  These  good  people,"  said  he,  "  they  have 
not  forgotten  me  yet." 

Then  he  told  us  how  much  this  land  of  exile 
had  meant  to  him. 

"  I  arrived  here  like  a  criminal  driven  out  of 
his  country,  knowing  not  where  to  find  refuge. 
This  is  the  very  village  to  which  I  came.  And 
that  first  night  when,  sad  and  disheartened,  I 
made  ready  to  sleep  in  a  strange  room,  a  chorus 
of  men,  accompanied  by  harps  and  brass  instru- 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  65 

ments,  broke  forth  under  my  window.  Dressing 
again  quickly,  I  opened  the  shutters,  and  saw  on 
the  lake  several  boats  hung  with  lanterns,  and 
filled  with  men  who  sang.  Can  you  imagine  my 
emotion  in  listening  to  them  ?  For  they  sang 
my  music,  fragments  from  my  operas  !  I  could 
hardly  believe  my  ears.  How  could  it  happen 
that  while  I  was  fleeing  from  one  country  which 
hated  me,  here,  in  this  out-of-the-way  village, 
I  was  loved  ;  they  knew  my  works,  and  welcomed 
me  like  this  ?  I  have  lived  a  long  time  among 
these  honest  Swiss  people,  and  I  am  deeply  grate- 
ful to  them,  because  at  the  moment  of  my  greatest 
despair  they  gave  me  back  faith  and  hope." 

Wagner  spoke  with  feeling,  and  his  voice  was 
serious  ;  but  his  laugh  rang  clearly  as  he  added  : 

"  And  that  is  why  you  will  have  bad  beds  to- 
night, and  an  indifferent  supper.  For  I  know 
you  would  not  have  me  take  you  to  any  other 
inn  than  this  one  from  which  I  carried  away  such 
a  memory." 

XX 

The  inn  was,  indeed,  badly  kept,  but  delight- 
fully situated,  at  the  base  of  the  mountains  and 


66  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

close  to  the  margin  of  another  lake,  which  the 
setting  sun  transformed  into  a  basin  of  gold. 

When  our  rooms  had  been  given  us  and  supper 
ordered,  Wagner  proposed  that  we  should  go  by 
boat  to  the  place  where  a  stream  gushes  out 
from  the  rock,  and  is  supposed  to  possess  all 
sorts  of  virtues,  among  others  that  of  granting 
forgetfulness  to  whomsoever  shall  drink  of  its 
waters. 

The  inn-keeper  himself  rigged  up  his  boat  for 
us,  and  offered  to  take  us  there.  With  one  shove 
of  his  boat-hook  he  launched  it  upon  the  luminous 
surface,  which  shivered  and  darkened  into  blue 
shadows. 

Wagner  began  to  sing,  since  we  were  now  in  the 
land  of  William  Tell, 

"  Accours  dans  ma  nacelle, 
Timide  jouvencelle.  ..." 

But  we  responded  with  themes  from  The  Flying 
Dutchman.,  and  after  that,  Lohengrin.  Then  the 
Master  joined  in,  and  started  the  song  of  the 
Ship-boy  from  Tristan.  All  the  motifs  of  the  first 
and  third  Acts  which  have  to  do  with  a  ship 
were  passed  in  review ;  The  Rhinegold  also  had  its 
turn,  and  at  last  Wagner  cried  : 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  67 

"  We  have  exhausted  all  my  aquatic  music  !  " 
The  mountains  made  an  almost  sheer  descent 
to  the  lake.  We  reached  the  spring  that  spouts 
from  the  rock.  Madam  Cosima  wished  to  taste 
this  water,  but  I  declared  that  I  would  not  drink, 
lest  I  should  lose  the  memory  of  the  wonderful 
journey. 

The  twilight  lowered;  gradually  everything 
was  obscured,  and  we  sailed  under  the  deepen- 
ing shadows.  Wagner  thought  it  would  be  more 
prudent  not  to  leave  the  boat,  but  to  return  to 
the  inn,  where  supper  awaited  us. 

XXI 

After  supper,  silent  and  thoughtful,  seated 
about  the  Master  on  the  terrace  of  the  inn,  we 
gave  ourselves  up  to  the  grave  and  restful  in- 
fluences of  the  night,  so  quickly  fallen  between 
those  high  mountains  which  enclosed  us.  The 
lake  was  invisible  save  for  a  few  faint  reflections. 

But  now  a  soft  radiance  stole  over  the  sky. 
Little  by  little  the  outlines  of  the  mountains 
stood  out,  very  sombre  against  the  lighter  back- 
ground ;  and,  gradually,  the  magnificent  spectacle 
of  a  rising  moon  unrolled  before  our  eyes. 


68  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

The  diffused  light  increased  and  concentrated, 
surging  higher  and  higher ;  the  prelude  to  Lohengrin 
sang  itself  in  our  hearts,  and  when,  at  last,  the 
full  moon  emerged,  lifted  above  the  highest 
summit,  it  was  for  us  the  Grail  shining  upon 
the  altar,  before  the  Master  of  the  Grail. 

XXII 

"  Aliens,  Enfants  de  la  Patrie  ! 
Le  jour  de  gloire  est  arriv6  ! " 

So  sang  Wagner  from  the  Marseillaise  at  the  top 
of  his  voice,  as  he  beat  a  tattoo  on  the  door  of 
my  bedroom  to  awaken  me ;  and  he  passed  on 
to  each  door,  beating  the  same  refrain. 

We  should  have  to  dress  very  quickly,  as  we 
must  climb  a  mountain  and  reach  the  summit 
before  noon,  if  we  wished  to  breakfast  there. 

This  mountain  was  called  the  Axenstein.  We 
commenced  the  ascent  on  foot,  on  a  lovely  day, 
under  a  sunshine  already  warm.  The  way  at 
the  beginning  was  charming,  and  mounted  very 
slowly  between  trees  and  bushes,  like  a  garden 
path. 

Senta  ran  on  before  and  gathered  little  wild 
flowers ;  very  soon  she  gave  a  cry  of  joy.  She 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  69 

had  just  discovered  some  strawberries.  Surely 
enough,  there  were  wild  strawberries  reddening 
under  the  leaves  here  and  there.  We  also,  Madam 
Cosima  and  I,  were  intent  upon  finding  them ; 
but  Wagner,  already  far  in  advance,  called  out 
to  us  not  to  linger,  and  so,  by  a  path  grown  more 
rugged  and  without  any  shade,  we  hurried  on. 
My  companion  seemed  very  tired  and  almost 
fainting.  I  made  her  sit  down  on  a  grassy  hillock, 
and  after  inhaling  some  salts,  she  recovered  herself 
quickly. 

"  Do  not  speak  of  it.  Above  all,  do  not  let 
the  Master  know,"  she  said.  Then  she  told 
me  that  she  had  been  more  or  less  ailing  and 
feeble  since  the  birth  of  Siegfried,  her  son,  whom 
she  had  not  yet  presented  to  me. 

c  Wagner,  who  is  indefatigable,  always  supposes 
that  one  has  strength  to  follow  him,  and  would 
be  inconsolable  if  he  were  to  know  that  he  is  mis- 
taken. That  is  why  it  is  necessary  to  triumph  over 
weakness  and  continue  the  ascent." 

XXIII 

The  hotel  was  one  of  those  sumptuous  and 
comfortable  structures  which  are  to  be  found  all 


70  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

over  Switzerland,  with  the  domestic  in  a  dress 
coat,  whose  presence  gives  you  a  shock  of  dis- 
appointment when  he  receives  you  with  a  smile, 
at  the  moment  when  you  reach  a  summit  which 
you  had  imagined  to  be  almost  inaccessible. 
The  view  was,  undoubtedly,  very  wonderful, 
since  we  had  been  obliged  to  mount  so  high  in 
order  to  enjoy  it,  but  I  am  ashamed  to  say  that 
I  have  not  retained  any  memory  of  it.  The 
Master  was  exuberantly  gay :  again  he  found 
old  acquaintances,  old  servants,  among  the  re- 
tainers of  the  hotel,  with  whom  he  joked  familiarly, 
which  annoyed  Madam  Cosima  very  much,  as  she 
could  have  wished  him  to  be  more  reserved,  more 
Olympian. 

In  the  corner  that  had  been  selected  for  us  in 
the  immense  dining-room,  the  dinner,  lubricated 
with  champagne,  was  hilarious  and  particularly 
delicious.  In  honour  of  Wagner,  the  proprietress 
of  the  hotel,  whose  outline  insistently  suggested 
the  fairy  Carabosse,  had  herself  superintended  its 
preparation.  We  prolonged  it  until  a  late  hour, 
as  it  was  the  last  day  of  the  excursion :  on  the 
following  day  we  should  have  to  descend  again, 
to  take  the  steamboat  and  return  to  Lucerne. 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  71 

It  was  only  after  the  return  that  Wagner  con- 
fessed that  he  had  been  indisposed  all  through 
the  journey ;  but  he  had  taken  great  care  not  to 
let  us  perceive  it,  in  order  not  to  spoil  our  pleasure. 

XXIV 

For  several  days  we  had  noticed  that  they 
treated  us  with  extraordinary  respect  at  the 
Hotel  du  Lac.  If  we  rang,  they  ran  to  answer 
our  call  before  the  bell  had  stopped  vibrating, 
owing  to  the  fact  that  the  servants  always  remained 
in  the  corridor,  to  take  our  orders  the  more  quickly. 
At  table,  because  we  had  once  complimented  the 
master  of  the  hotel  on  a  particularly  delicious 
dish  of  spinach,  they  now  served  us  spinach  more 
and  more  delicious  at  every  meal.  When  we  left 
our  rooms  stealthy  and  curious  eyes  looked  at 
us  through  half-open  doors  along  the  passage. 
They  saluted  us  with  an  obsequiousness  most 
unusual  in  free  Switzerland.  They  almost  ap- 
peared to  form  in  line  as  we  passed,  and  already 
in  the  city  it  was  evident  that  our  presence 
created  a  strange  excitement.  Was  it  because 
they  knew  us  to  be  friends  of  Richard  Wagner, 
and  because  the  jealously-guarded  retreat  in 


72  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

which  he  lived  was  open  for  us  ?  Certainly  no 
glory  appeared  to  us  more  enviable,  and  our  just 
pride  equalled  our  joy.  But  why  should  we 
cause  such  a  commotion  amid  the  placid  popula- 
tion of  Lucerne  ?  Could  it  be  that  we  were 
surrounded  by  a  luminous  mist,  visible  to  less 
fortunate  mortals  ? 

When  we  set  sail  for  the  little  cape  of  Tribschen, 
clouds  of  other  sails,  with  an  appearance  of  un- 
concern, put  out  from  the  banks  to  escort  us  from 
afar,  and  as  long  as  we  remained  at  the  home  of 
our  illustrious  host,  they  increased  all  about  the 
edges  of  the  grounds,  drawing  as  near  as  possible. 

We  had  told  the  Master  and  Madam  Cosima 
about  this,  and  they  were  as  puzzled  as  we  were. 
Sometimes  we  went  into  the  garden,  to  look 
through  the  trees  at  all  those  boats,  full  of 
tourists,  which  waited  there  so  stubbornly  with 
that  incomprehensible  air  of  expectation. 

This  mysterious  thing  finally  explained  itself. 
Madam  Cosima,  in  going  to  Lucerne  one  day  to 
take  Senta  for  her  piano  lesson,  met  the  owner 
of  Tribschen,  and  he  himself,  without  being  asked, 
gave  the  keyword  of  the  enigma. 

"  Everyone  in  Lucerne  knows,"  said  he,  "  that 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  73 

the  King,  Ludwig  II.  of  Bavaria,  is  here  incognito. 
The  Chief  of  Police  said  to  me,  '  I  have  an  un- 
erring scent,  and  I  know  that  he  is  there.' ' 

Everyone  knew  that  the  King  had  had  his  hair 
dressed  at  the  shop  of  M.  Frey,  and  that  he  had 
honoured  the  fortunate  barber  with  a  conversation 
upon  Wagner ;  that  at  the  Zug  rifle-match  he 
had  condescended  to  compete,  and  victoriously, 
and  that  he  had  made  with  the  Master  an  excursion 
to  the  Axenstein.  .  .  . 

The  piano-teacher  knew  the  story,  but  she  also 
told  Cosima  something  more.  Adelina  Patti  had 
been  at  Tribschen  for  the  last  fifteen  days.  The 
King  had  brought  her  there,  so  that  she  might 
study  a  part,  which  it  would  be  her  duty  to  create 
in  the  next  work  of  Wagner.  That  was  why  all 
the  boatmen  received  orders  to  draw  as  near  as 
possible  to  the  Master's  house,  in  order  that  the 
tourists  might  perhaps  catch,  on  the  wing,  a  few 
notes  of  the  diva.  It  was  Villiers  de  1'Isle-Adam 
whom  they  had  taken  for  the  King  of  Bavaria, 
and  it  was  in  my  person  that  the  Lucerne  imagina- 
tion had  recognised  Madam  Patti.  One  of  our 
companions  was,  beyond  any  doubt,  the  blond 
Count  de  Taxis. 


74  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

"  You  see,"  Wagner  said  to  us,  "  that  you  have 
not  only  touched  two  hearts  which,  through  being 
armed  so  long  against  human  malice,  have  be- 
come almost  callous,  but  you  have  also  put  in  a 
flutter  the  usually  very  apathetic  brains  of  the 
inhabitants  of  Lucerne  !  " 

All  was  very  clear,  now  that  we  understood  it ; 
but  now  we  must  proceed  to  undeceive  these 
firmly  convinced  people.  All  our  denials,  like 
the  hammer  that  strikes  upon  the  nail,  only  served 
to  deepen  the  certainty  of  their  minds.  It  only 
remained  to  amuse  ourselves  with  this  short 
royalty.  We  profited  by  it  to  the  extent  of  being 
served  like  princes  at  the  Hotel  du  Lac. 

XXV 

One  day  I  had  been  invited  to  Tribschen  for 
the  two  o'clock  dinner.  Over  the  lake,  as  usual, 
a  boatman  rowed  me  to  the  point  of  the  pro- 
montory, and  I  passed  through  the  garden  and 
up  to  the  house  without  meeting  anyone.  The 
French  windows  of  the  drawing-room  were  wide- 
open,  and  as  I  reached  the  threshold  I  heard 
soft  harmonies  that  came  from  the  little  sanctuary 
where  the  Master  worked.  Hardly  daring  to 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  75 

breathe,  I  slipped  into  the  nearest  chair.  I  was 
greatly  moved,  troubled,  even  frightened,  for 
was  it  not  a  presumption,  almost  a  sacrilege, 
to  surprise  in  this  way  the  sacred  mystery  ?  Yet, 
what  rare  good  fortune  was  mine,  to  hear  Wagner 
composing !  Perfectly  quiet,  hardly  moving  an 
eyelash,  I  listened  intently.  Incomparably  sweet 
appeared  to  me  the  sounds  I  heard.  A  very 
slow  progression  of  chords,  which  seemed  to  be 
drawn  from  a  harp  rather  than  a  piano  :  a  strange, 
remote  harmony,  mysterious  and  supernatural. 
I  discovered,  later,  that  it  was  the  first  sketch 
of  the  Invocation  to  Erda  by  Wotan,  in  the  Third 
Act  of  Siegfried,  where  the  goddess  ascends  from 
the  depths  of  the  earth,  with  closed  eyes  and 
draperies  wet  with  dew.  .  .  . 

After  a  few  moments,  silence  fell,  and  Wagner 
soon  appeared  between  the  silken  folds  of  the 
parted  curtains. 

His  face,  with  its  aureole  of  silvered  hair,  was 
calm,  and  still  more  luminous  than  usual  were 
the  rays  that  beamed  from  his  large  eyes. 

He  saw  me  sitting  rigid  on  my  chair. 

"  Ah  !  "  he  said,  "  are  you  there  ?  As  quiet 
as  an  image  !  I  have  not  heard  a  sound." 


76  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

"  Imagine,  then,  O  Master,  what  terror  and 
what  ecstasy  I  have  felt,  to  surprise  Deity  in  the 
act  of  creating." 

"  I  have  told  you  before  that  you  must  not  be 
so  enthusiastic,"  he  exclaimed  laughingly.  ''  It 
is  bad  for  the  health." 

"  Oh !  no ;  on  the  contrary,  it  makes  one 
doubly  alive." 

"  Well,  I  have  been  good  too.  Come  and  see 
how  well  I  have  worked." 

A  perfume  of  white-rose  extract  pervaded  the 
little  chapel.  A  restful  light,  subdued  by  the 
surrounding  verdure,  illumined  it ;  two  or  three 
rays  fell  on  the  gilded  backs  of  the  books,  and  the 
royal  friend  in  his  golden  frame  seemed  to  follow 
one  with  the  magic  glance  of  his  polar  blue  eyes. 

There  was  no  disorder  on  the  piano-desk. 
Several  large  sheets  of  music-paper,  nearly  covered 
with  writing,  concealed  here  and  there  the  dark 
woodwork.  The  part  which  the  Master  had  just 
composed  was  written  in  pencil,  in  very  fine, 
close  writing. 

"  I  copy  with  the  pen,"  he  said.  "  I  like  to 
have  it  very  clear.  When  I  cannot  decipher  it, 
I  am  furious." 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  77 

I  read  at  the  top  of  a  re- copied  page, 

"Siegfried.     Third  Act." 

"  As  a  matter  of  fact,"  exclaimed  Wagner,  "  I 
ought  to  rewrite  from  nearly  two  pages  back, 
because  I  have  smudged  it." 

And  he  showed  me  where,  on  the  right  side 
of  the  leaf,  three  bars  were  scratched  out.  They 
had  been  erased  angrily,  by  three  slurs,  very 
heavily  marked  and  resembling  a  series  of  e's 
and  Vs. 

"  What  will  become  of  this  precious  paper, 
then  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Would  you  like  it  ? "  replied  the  Master, 
divining  my  covetousness. 

"Oh!  yes." 

Then,  taking  his  pen,  he  dated  it  on  the  margin 
at  the  top  of  the  page,  "  From  Tribschen." 

It  is  the  wonderful  prelude  from  the  Third  Act 
of  Siegfried,  before  the  Invocation  to  Erda.  It 
is  sketched  in  three  lines,  with  instrumental 
indications,  and  a  few  pencilled  alterations.  I 
did  not  yet  know  all  the  beauty  contained  in  those 
two  pages,  the  possession  of  which  filled  me  with 


78  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

The  bell  for  dejeuner  sounded,  and  I  heard  the 
laughter  of  the  children.  They  were  looking  for 
us.  Wagner  gallantly  offered  me  his  arm  to 
escort  me  to  the  dining-room. 

XXVI 

At  table,  Wagner  told  us  about  a  very  interest- 
ing French  leaflet  which  he  had  once  read  in 
Paris,  and  which  he  had  never  been  able  to  find 
again.  It  was  a  history  of  Bluebeard,  with  the 
traditional  slaying  of  his  wives  and  the  forbidden 
chamber ;  but  in  this  account  the  last-threatened 
victim  was  not  saved  in  the  usual  way,  by  her 
brothers.  No  less  a  person  than  Jeanne  d'Arc 
came  to  deliver  her  and  punish  the  criminal. 

"  I  remember,"  said  the  Master,  "  that  there 
were  illustrations.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  was  a 
cheap  edition,  printed  in  two  columns.  I  have 
no  idea  how  this  pamphlet  came  into  my  hands, 
nor  how  it  was  lost,  but  I  have  never  forgotten 
it.  That  bringing  together  of  Jeanne  d'Arc 
and  Bluebeard  impressed  me  very  much.  The 
monstrous  Gilles  de  Retz,  who  may  have  served 
as  a  model  for  the  legendary  type  of  Bluebeard, 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  79 

was  a  contemporary  of  La  Pucelle,  and  the  hypo- 
thesis of  that  heroine's  coming  to  the  aid  of 
innocence  and  chastising  the  guilty  is  very 
curious.  I  should  be  glad  if  I  could  find  that 
funny  little  leaflet  again." 

(Alas  !  it  was  not  to  be  found,  in  spite  of  all 
researches.) 

Toward  the  middle  of  the  dinner,  Wagner, 
who  had  been  silent  for  a  little  time,  asked  our 
permission  to  go  and  note  down  an  idea  which 
had  crossed  his  mind,  and  which  he  feared  he 
might  forget,  d  propos  of  the  study  of  Beethoven 
upon  which  he  was  then  at  work. 

He  went  up  to  his  bedroom  to  write  these  few 
sentences,  and  I  concluded  from  that  fact  that 
the  Master  did  not  write  his  volumes  of  prose  in 
the  same  holy  place  where  he  composed  his  music. 

XXVII 

In  the  "  gallery,"  beside  the  marble  statue 
of  Tristan,  stood  a  photograph  framed  in  velvet 
which  reproduced  the  features  of  a  handsome, 
athletic  young  man,  with  an  intensely  ardent 
expression.  I  was  very  curious  about  this  portrait, 


8o  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

which  always  attracted  my  attention  and  held 
it  irresistibly.  One  day  I  questioned  the  Master. 

"  Who  is  that  young  man  ?  " 

I  saw  him  grow  pale  ;  his  eyes  filled  with  tears, 
and  with  a  repressed  sigh,  he  murmured, 

"  My  poor  Schnorr  !  " 

Madam  Cosima  signed  to  me  not  to  say  any- 
thing more,  and  as  soon  as  it  was  possible,  she  told 
me  all  about  it. 

"  It  is  a  photograph  of  Schnorr  von  Karolsfeld, 
'  the  hero  of  song,'  as  Wagner  called  him — 
suddenly  cut  off  by  Death  in  the  very  fulness  of 
triumphant  life.  Five  years  have  passed  since 
then,  but  the  Master  cannot  console  himself  for 
the  loss  of  this  friend,  this  disciple,  this  marvellous 
interpreter  of  his  work.  He  never  thinks  of  him 
without  a  pang  and,  above  all,  he  dreads  to  speak 
of  him." 

"  Schnorr  was  the  son  cl  a  celebrated  painter, 
and  had  received  a  fine  education.  He  was  very 
gifted  in  all  the  arts,  and  by  reason  of  one  more 
rare  and  wonderful  gift,  that  of  an  incomparable 
voice,  he  had  been  drawn  toward  music  and  the 
stage.  From  his  first  acquaintance  with  the 
works  of  Richard  Wagner,  Schnorr  had  compre- 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  81 

hended  and  profoundly  loved  them.  Despite 
the  increasing  celebrity  of  the  young  artist,  the 
Master  for  a  long  time  rather  dreaded  to  see  him 
because  of  what  he  had  heard  of  his  too  great 
corpulence :  he  feared  that  this  physical  im- 
perfection might  prejudice  and  render  him  unjust 
to  all  his  other  qualities.  So,  because  he  was 
little  skilled  in  concealing  his  impressions,  he 
avoided  being  brought  in  contact  with  the  in- 
terpreter of  his  works.  It  was,  therefore,  with 
great  secrecy  that  he  went  one  evening  to 
Karlsruhe  (where  Schnorr  was  engaged  for  a 
representation  of  Lohengrin)  and  entered  the 
theatre  without  being  recognised. 

"  Later,  the  Master  himself  told  the  story  of 
that  wonderful  evening. 

"  '  All  my  apprehensions  very  soon  disappeared. 
It  is  true  that  the  first  appearance  of  the  Knight 
of  the  Swan  as  he  drew  near  to  the  shore,  looking 
like  a  young  Hercules,  made  a  rather  strange 
impression  upon  me,  but  this  disappeared  as  the 
hero  advanced.  The  peculiar  charm  of  the 
messenger  from  God  works  instantly.  Of  this 
character  one  did  not  ask,  "  Who  is  he  ?  "  but 
said,  "  It  is  he." 

F 


82  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

"  '  Truly,  this  sudden  and  profound  impression 
can  only  be  compared  to  a  kind  of  enchantment. 
I  remember  having  felt  this  very  decidedly  when 
I  was  a  boy,  concerning  the  great  Schroeder- 
Devrient.  I  have  never  experienced  it  since 
so  strongly,  so  decisively  as  at  the  entrance  of 
Ludwig  Schnorr  in  Lohengrin.  While  I  recognised, 
in  the  course  of  his  interpretation,  that  in  many 
ways  his  understanding  and  rendering  of  my 
work  had  not  yet  attained  maturity,  yet  even  in 
that  I  saw  the  charm  of  a  youthful  purity  still 
untouched,  of  a  virgin  soil  that  promised  to  bring 
forth  flowers  of  great  artistic  perfection.  The 
fervour,  the  tender  exaltation  that  burned  in  the 
marvellously  love-filled  eyes  of  this  very  young 
man,  made  me  feel  vaguely  how  ill-omened  might 
be  the  fire  by  which  they  were  enkindled.  Very 
soon  I  discovered  in  him  a  being  who,  by  the  very 
reason  of  his  unlimited  gifts,  inspired  in  me  a 
tragic  pity.' 

"  The  meeting  between  the  Master  and  the 
disciple  was  cordial  and  touching.  And  what  a 
glad  surprise  for  the  creator  of  Tristan  and  Isolde, 
to  discover  that  Schnorr,  filled  with  enthusiasm 
for  this  work,  reputed  to  be  unsingable,  had  made 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  83 

himself  thoroughly  acquainted  with  it,  and  knew 
the  role  of  Tristan  from  one  end  to  the  other ! 
Nevertheless,  he  had  hesitated  to  sing  it,  all  because 
of  a  passage  in  the  Third  Act.  He  did  not  quite 
comprehend  what  ought  to  be  the  musical  ex- 
pression of  this  especial  passage,  which  he  judged 
to  be  one  of  the  highest  importance. 

"  This  unselfish  scruple  gave  Wagner  one  of 
the  vivid  surprises  of  his  life.  Could  it  be  possible 
that  a  tenor  acclaimed  by  all  should  have  so  little 
vanity  and  be  so  nobly  conscious  of  his  artistic 
mission  ?  Could  he  so  mistrust  himself  and, 
in  spite  of  his  experience  and  his  pre-eminence, 
believe  himself  incapable  of  interpreting  a  rdle 
because  he  did  not  entirely  comprehend  the  exact 
expression  of  a  single  passage  in  so  complicated 
a  work  ?  And  the  idea  of  cutting  out  this  phrase, 
the  first  that  would  have  occurred  to  any  other 
singer,  had  not  even  suggested  itself  to  this  rare 
soul. 

"  The  passage  in  question,  in  the  Third  Act 
of  Tristan,  runs  as  follows  : 

'  Aus  Vaters  Noth  und  Mutter  Weh, 
Aus  Liebes-thranen  eh'  und  je, 
Aus  Lachen  und  Weinen,  Wonnen  und  Wunden, 
Hab*  ich  des  Trankes  Gifte  gefunden ! 


84  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

Den  ich  gebraut,  der  mir  geflossen, 
Den  Wonne  Schliirfend  je  ich  genossen, 
Verflucht  sei  furchtbarer  Trank, 
Verflucht  wer  dich  gebraut  ! ' 

"It  is  a  climax  in  that  delirious  raving  of 
Tristan  separated  from  Isolde,  that  frenzied  long- 
ing which  only  found  relief  in  unconsciousness. 

"  The  Master  explained  certain  things  to 
Schnorr;  especially  he  gave  him  the  idea  of  a 
wider,  less  rapid,  movement,  which  suddenly 
cleared  all  that  had  been  obscure  to  the  young 
artist,  who  showed  at  once  that  he  had  under- 
stood by  interpreting  the  passage  in  a  way 
that  was  without  a  fault. 

" '  Who  can  measure  the  extent  of  the  hopes 
that  thrilled  me  at  the  moment  when  such  a 
singer  came  into  my  lif e  ! ' 

"  Such  was  Wagner's  cry  of  gratitude.  And  from 
that  day  he  made  every  effort  to  obtain  a  represen- 
tation of  Tristan,  with  the  co-operation  of  Schnorr. 

"  There  were  still  many  years  before  this 
beautiful  dream  was  realised,  and  then  it  came 
to  pass  through  the  intervention  of  the  royal 
friend,  the  archangel  so  miraculously  sent,  whose 
flaming  sword  reduced  all  obstacles  to  ashes  and 
made  free  the  path  toward  the  ideal. 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  85 

"  These  first  representations  of  Tristan  at 
Munich  were  among  the  most  memorable  of 
artistic  events.  Those  who  had  the  good  for- 
tune to  take  part  in  them  preserved  a  splendid 
memory  and  a  nostalgic  longing.  So  great  a  work 
produced  with  such  perfection  and,  during  the 
rehearsals,  such  complete  harmony  between  the 
Master  and  the  interpreter  ! 

"  To  quote  the  Master's  own  words : 
" '  The  clumsiest  of  would-be  musicians,  singer 
or  instrumentalist,  would  never  have  accepted 
from  me  such  minute  instructions  as  did  that  hero 
of  song,  who,  without  effort,  arrived  at  such  a 
mastery.  Any  indication  of  mine  upon  which 
I  laid  the  slightest  stress  he  accepted  and  acted 
on  with  cheerful  promptness,  grasping  the  reason 
for  it  at  once,  and  in  such  a  way  that  I  should 
have  felt  that  I  had  failed  in  my  duty  if,  through 
fear  of  wounding  his  feelings,  I  had  withheld  my 
suggestion,  however  minute  it  might  be.  The 
reason  for  this  disposition  on  the  part  of  my 
friend  is  that  the  ideal  comprehension  of  my  work 
had  come  to  him  quite  spontaneously ;  he  ab- 
sorbed my  ideas  so  naturally  that  not  the  slenderest 
thread  of  the  spiritual  woof,  not  the  slightest 


86  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

allusion  to  the  most  obscure  harmonies  escaped 
him ;  he  felt  them  all  in  a  very  subtle  way.' 

" '  So  nothing  remained  for  him  but  to  select  as 
rigorously  as  possible  the  technical  methods  of 
expression  for  the  singer,  the  musician,  and  the 
actor  that  would  best  secure  a  perfect  harmony 
between  the  personal  gifts  of  the  artist  in  their 
particular  effect  and  the  ideal  object  of  the 
interpretation.  All  who  were  present  at  those 
studies  will  be  able  to  testify  that  they  never 
before  witnessed  such  an  amicable  and  artistic 
understanding.  Having  explained  to  him  the 
one  passage  which  he  had  not  comprehended 
I  never  had  any  further  talk  with  Schnorr  about 
the  Third  Act  of  Tristan.  After  paying  the 
closest  attention  to  the  rehearsals  of  the  First 
and  Second  Acts,  when  the  Third  Act  commenced 
I  involuntarily  turned  away  from  the  hero, 
wounded  unto  death,  and,  sitting  motionless 
upon  my  chair  with  my  eyes  half-closed,  became 
completely  absorbed  in  the  music.  As  I  never 
turned  toward  him  during  this  tremendous  scene 
even  at  his  most  impassioned  utterances,  Schnorr 
appeared  to  have  been  abashed  by  my  long 
silence  and  seeming  indifference ;  but  when, 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  87 

after  the  malediction  of  love,  I  finally  got  up  and 
going  unsteadily  to  this  wonderful  friend,  who 
still  remained  prostrate  on  his  couch,  I  leaned 
over  him  and,  embracing  him  vehemently,  said 
to  him  in  a  subdued  voice  that  I  had  no  criticism 
to  make,  that  from  this  time  forth  my  own  ideal 
would  be  consummately  revealed  by  him,  then  his 
sombre  eyes  sparkled  like  the  star  of  love ;  there 
was  one  hardly  perceptible  sob,  and  from  that 
time  no  other  word  ever  passed  between  us  on 
the  subject  of  this  Third  Act.' 

"  The  days  of  these  representations  and  the 
dress  rehearsal  before  the  King  were,  without 
doubt,  for  Wagner  the  culminating  point  in  his 
destiny  as  composer :  they  included  those  in- 
effable hours  that  repay  for  a  whole  lifetime  of 
efforts,  of  disappointments,  of  miseries — his  '  ideal 
realised,'  the  splendour  of  his  genius  shining 
before  his  own  eyes  and  penetrating  his  very 
being  with  a  glorious  certainty. 

"  And  what  a  magnificent  trinity,  Richard 
Wagner,  Ludwig  II.  and  the  incarnation  of  Tristan ! 
What  a  noble  joy  animated  them  all !  '  How 
I  bless  those  hours  ! '  cried  Schnorr,  in  a  burst 
of  enthusiasm.  '  O  Master,  with  your  help  and 


88  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

the  help  of  this  divine  king,  I  also  must  accomplish 
something  great  and  glorious  ! ' 

"  A  most  unusual  interruption  brought  this 
splendid  manifestation  of  art  to  an  unforeseen 
conclusion  after  the  fourth  representation.  From 
the  first,  Wagner  had  felt  for  Schnorr's  prodigious 
achievement  an  astonishment  full  of  respect,  which 
increased  to  dread  and  finally  became  an  actual 
terror.  It  was  unbelievable  that  the  singer  could 
repeat  this  performance  day  after  day,  after  the 
custom  of  the  theatre.  The  Master  felt  that  it 
would  be  a  crime,  and  he  therefore  declared  that 
this  fourth  representation  of  Tristan  should  be 
the  last ;  that  he  would  not  permit  another. 
So  the  work  was  not  given  again. 

"  '  I  feel  that  I  have  no  right  to  inflict  such  a 
condition  of  trouble  upon  a  human  being,'  said 
Wagner. 

"  It  was  not  a  question  of  physical  fatigue — 
Schnorr  did  not  experience  any :  but  to  live 
Tristan,  to  burn  with  his  passions,  to  suffer  his 
agonies,  to  thrill  with  his  ecstasies,  to  die  his 
death ! — such  superhuman  exaltation,  such  emo- 
tion and  fever  of  the  soul,  all  this  the  Master  could 
not  permit  again.  So  the  success  was  interrupted, 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  89 

the  big  receipts  were  cut  off,  for  such  secondary 
considerations  as  these  did  not  concern  those 
generous  minds  for  an  instant. 

"  Then  a  very  great  project  began  to  take  shape 
in  Wagner's  brain. 

"  '  With  the  certainty  of  the  unspeakable  im- 
portance of  Schnorr  for  my  musical  creations,  a 
new  springtide  of  hope  entered  into  my  life.  The 
medium  was  at  last  found  through  which  my 
creative  power  could  link  itself  to  the  present. 
The  moment  was  come  in  which  to  teach  and  to 
make  clear.  That  which  had  been  universally 
misunderstood,  denounced  as  unplayable,  mocked 
at,  covered  with  contempt,  was  about  to  be 
proved  an  undeniable  artistic  reality.  To  create 
a  German  style  for  representing  works  of  German 
genius — this  was  our  watchword.  And  with  this 
consoling  hope  I  found  it  easier  to  oppose,  for  the 
time,  any  further  productions  of  Tristan.  This 
work  and  these  representations  were  so  different 
from  the  usual  performances  that  they  would 
necessitate  too  sudden  a  leap  into  the  unknown ; 
the  precipices  and  chasms  yawning  before  it  must 
be  approached  deliberately.  We  must  begin  by 
carefully  roofing  them  over,  by  paving  the  way 


90  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

toward  ourselves,  the  isolated  artists,  up  to  our 
summit,  for  those  associates  that  were  indis- 
pensable to  us.  So  then,  Schnorr  being  ours, 
it  was  determined  to  found  a  Royal  College  of 
Music  and  Dramatic  Art.' 

"  Alas  !  how  many  obstacles,  how  many  fresh 
struggles,  and  before  the  work  could  be  achieved, 
how  cruel  the  death  that  struck  down  the  hero,  in 
the  fulness  of  youth,  in  the  fulness  of  beauty  !  " 

And  now,  when  in  the  gallery  I  pass  before  the 
superb  likeness  of  Schnorr  von  Karolsfeld,  I  in 
my  turn  feel  my  heart  contract,  and  I  stifle  a 
cry  of  anger,  of  revolt,  against  so  blind  and  imbecile 
a  destiny. 

XXVIII 

To-day  it  happened  that  when  we  entered  the 
drawing-room  at  Tribschen  we  found  our  host 
there  entertaining  strangers,  visitors  !  A  gentle- 
man and  a  lady,  both  very  small  in  figure  and 
rather  dull  in  aspect,  were  sitting  with  an  air 
of  constraint,  only  one  of  them  speaking. 

The  Master  presented  them. 

"  His    Excellency   The  Counsellor   Iserof    and 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  91 

Madame  Iserof,  who  have  come  from  Russia  to 
see  me." 

We  exchanged  some  rather  cold  salutations. 

It  was  evident  that  our  presence  displeased 
the  newcomers  as  much  as  theirs  disturbed  us. 
They  felt  that  we  were  more  intimate  than  they 
in  the  household  ;  they  saw  that  we  were  received 
very  cordially,  that  Russ  and  Cos  did  not  bark, 
but  gave  evidence  of  pleasure  in  our  arrival. 
Yet  these  people  were  much  older  acquaintances 
of  Wagner's  than  were  we ;  they  certainly  would 
have  preferred  to  have  the  Master  to  themselves. 
Ah !  how  well  we  could  comprehend  what  they 
felt! 

Madam  Cosima  followed  me  out  on  to  the 
steps.  We  both  leaned  against  the  iron  railing, 
and  she  told  me  about  the  visitors. 

"  Counsellor  Iserof  is  a  composer  well  thought 
of  in  Russia,  who  is  worthy  of  being  admitted 
into  the  free-masonry  of  the  brotherhood  if  only 
to  uphold  firmly  the  Wagnerian  standard  at 
Petersburg.  Of  his  wife  there  is  not  much  to 
say.  She  seems  to  be  rather  in  the  background. 
They  are  going,  as  you  are,  to  Munich,  to  be 
present  at  the  production  of  the  Rheingold." 


92  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

"  Well,  between  soldiers  of  the  same  army 
there  must  be  good  understanding." 

"  Indeed  yes.  The  Master  will  undoubtedly 
keep  them  to  supper." 

"  Very  well.  We  must  be  very  amiable  to 
Iserofitus  and  Iserofita  !  " 

XXIX 

As  the  weather  was  beautiful  and  very  warm, 
Madam  Cosima  bathed  in  the  lake  nearly  every 
day  with  her  little  girls,  and  I  was  invited  to  join 
in  this  cool  recreation. 

Under  the  shadow  cast  by  the  little  shed  of 
the  landing-place,  which  deepened  the  blue  of  the 
limpid  water,  we  very  prudently  disported  our- 
selves. Madam  Cosima  and  the  children  wore 
long  white  dressing-gowns ;  she,  with  her  blond 
hair  hanging  in  braids,  seemed  like  a  saint  sur- 
rounded by  cherubs,  or  even  a  swan  guiding  her 
brood.  I,  myself,  was  in  a  bathing  costume, 
and  so  I  ventured  beyond  the  prescribed  limits 
into  the  clearer  blue  and  the  sunlight,  cutting 
capers,  and  feeling  very  flattered  by  the  admiration 
which  my  ease  and  audacity  as  a  swimmer  aroused 
among  those  who  could  not  leave  the  shelter. 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  93 

But,  when  I  had  gone  a  little  too  far  away,  and 
a  chorus  of  clear,  sweet  voices  called  me  back 
with  cries  and  supplications,  then  I  returned  very 
obediently  and  stood  again  in  shallow  water, 
and  joined  with  the  merry  circle  in  madly  splashing 
the  water  into  the  air,  laughing  with  them  as  it 
fell  again  in  showers  of  pearls. 

XXX 

Alas  !  we  had  only  a  few  more  days  to  remain 
in  Lucerne.  The  opening  of  the  Exposition  of 
Painting  was  announced  and  we  must  be  there, 
in  order  to  fulfil  our  engagements  with  the  journals 
to  which  we  had  promised  our  letters. 

On  one  of  these  last  days  the  weather  was 
dull  and  stormy,  and  Madam  Cosima  and  I  had 
stayed  under  the  great  pine  that  the  Master  was 
so  agile  in  climbing. 

He  had  gone  to  his  room  to  work  for  a  time 
on  his  study  of  Beethoven.  Madam  Cosima 
was  giving  me  information  about  Munich,  telling 
me  what  was  best  to  see  there :  among  other 
things  the  gallery  of  Count  von  Schack,  an 
original  character  even  more  interesting,  per- 


94  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

haps,  than  his  collection,  which  contained,  among 
many  daubs,  a  few  fine  paintings. 

44  You  will  also  see  my  father,  and  someone 
who  is  very  dear  to  him,"  added  she. 

As  she  spoke  these  words  an  expression  of 
sadness  passed  quickly  over  her  face  and  as 
quickly  disappeared. 

44 1  feel  sure,"  she  continued,  44  that  you  have 
no  idea  for  whom  your  father  wrote  the 4  Symphonic 
en  blanc  majeurS  You  do  not  know  4  La  femme 
Cygne,'  '  La  neige  Vierge,'  4  VHostie^  4  La  moelle 
de  Roseau,'  or  who  was  the  original  of  those 
delightful  portraitures." 

44  Then  there  was  an  original  ?  " 

44  Yes,  madame ;  before  you  were  born  that 
original  inspired  the  poet  who  was  your  father, 
and  at  that  time,  it  appears,  his  description  was 
very  like  her." 

44  Do  you  know  who  she  was  ?  " 

44  The  very  person  about  whom  I  spoke  a  moment 
ago,  and  who,  I  am  certain,  will  be  curious  to  see 
you.  She  was  born  a  Nesselrode,  then  became 
Madam  Kalergic,  and  is  to-day  the  Countess 
Muchanoff.  Very  enthusiastic  about  Wagner,  she 
has  been  for  a  long  time  devoted  to  his  cause. 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  95 

Intelligent,  cultured,  a  musician !  My  father 
asserts  that  no  one  interprets  Chopin  as  well 
as  she  does." 

"  Then  there  is  a  connection  between  you  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  What  bitterness  in  that  '  Yes  ! '  What  has 
she  done  to  you  ?  " 

"  I  believed  that  I  could  count  upon  her  friend- 
ship, and  she  failed  me  at  the  moment  when  I 
had  most  need  of  it.  Last  winter  she  over- 
whelmed me  with  reproaches  because  I  did  not 
take  her  into  my  confidence  regarding  the  distrac- 
tions of  my  inner  life.  I  replied  quietly  that  I 
had  nothing  to  confide,  nothing  to  conceal.  4  The 
painful  situation  in  which  I  am  placed  will  dis- 
entangle itself  very  naturally,  since  Herr  von 
Biilow  and  I  are  agreed  upon  the  divorce.'  But 
my  father,  with  whom  I  am  no  longer  in  touch, 
struck  the  last  blow  at  me,  in  dissuading  Herr 
von  Billow  from  this  project.  I  wrote  at  once  to 
Madam  Muchanoff,  begging  her  to  use  her  in- 
fluence with  my  father.  I  besought  her  to  prevent 
him  from  influencing  Herr  von  Billow  in  a  way 
so  contrary  to  my  interest  and  my  dearest  wishes. 
She  has  done  nothing.  Her  reply  was  confused, 


96  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

without  sympathy  and  without  frankness.  Ah  ! 
how  I  regret  having  broken  through  my  reserve 
with  her,  and,  above  all,  having  allowed  Wagner 
to  write  to  her  as  he  has  done,  so  open-heartedly 
and  with  so  much  enthusiasm  !  But,  hush  ! 
here  he  comes  again.  I  do  not  want  him  to  see 
that  I  am  sad." 

XXXI 

Behind  the  house,  in  that  court  which  formed 
a  part  of  the  garden,  and  from  which  the  carriage- 
drive  started,  there  was  a  high  swing,  which  the 
children  were  allowed  to  use  very  carefully,  and 
with  which  the  older  people  sometimes  amused 
themselves.  One  day  Madam  Cosima  was  sitting 
on  the  narrow  board.  Wagner  offered  to  start  the 
swing  and  give  her  a  good  flight  through  the  air. 

All  went  well  for  a  time,  but,  little  by  little, 
the  motion  became  more  rapid ;  higher  and  still 
higher  went  the  swing  !  In  vain  Madam  Cosima 
begged  for  mercy.  Carried  away  by  a  kind  of 
frenzy,  the  Master  paid  no  attention,  and  the 
incident  began  to  have  a  terrifying  aspect. 

Cosima  grew  white ;  her  hold  relaxed,  and  she 
was  about  to  fall. 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  97 

"  Do  you  not  see  that  she  is  fainting  ?  "  I 
cried,  throwing  myself  toward  Wagner. 

He  grew  pale,  in  his  turn,  and  the  danger  was 
quickly  averted.  But,  as  the  poor  woman  con- 
tinued to  be  dizzy  and  trembling,  the  Master 
concluded  it  would  be  wise  to  create  a  diversion. 
He  ran  rapidly  toward  the  house,  and  by  the  aid 
of  the  shutters,  the  mouldings  and  projections 
of  the  stones,  he  climbed  nimbly  up  the  side, 
and  reaching  the  balcony  of  the  floor  above, 
leaped  over  it. 

He  had  obtained  the  desired  effect,  but  in 
replacing  one  evil  by  another.  Trembling  with 
anxiety,  Cosima  turned  to  me,  saying  under  her 
breath : 

"  Above  all  things,  do  not  notice  him  ;  do  not 
look  surprised,  or  you  can  never  tell  where  he 
will  end." 

XXXII 

"  While  you  are  in  Munich,"  Wagner  said  to 
me,  "  try  to  induce  them  to  show  you  the  model 
of  a  theatre  that  the  great  architect  Semper 
constructed  for  me.  I  warn  you  that  this  will  not 
be  easy,  even  with  the  introductions  that  I  shall 


98  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

be  able  to  give  you.  They  have  consigned  this 
model  to  some  out-of-the-way  corner  of  the  palace, 
and  they  are  not  fond  of  bringing  it  to  light. 
They  strongly  suspect  that  I  have  not  altogether 
given  up  the  hope  that  one  day  I  may  see  my 
buried  project  come  to  life  again,  and  this  pre- 
sentiment is  a  real  nightmare  for  my  enemies." 

A  little  later  Madam  Cosima  drew  me  to  one 
side,  and  said  : — 

"  If  you  should  be  able,  in  connection  with  the 
approaching  representation  of  the  Rheingold,  to 
bring  before  the  public  the  history  of  that  theatre 
project,  which  the  Master  told  you  about,  I  do 
not  believe  that  I  can  be  mistaken  in  saying  that 
you  would  give  him  a  real  and  profound  satis- 
faction ;  for  the  truth  about  those  events  has 
been  so  completely  disfigured  by  envy,  incapacity, 
and  spite  as  to  be  hardly  recognisable." 

"  You  may  be  very  sure  that  I  will  gladly  do 
what  I  can." 

"  It  is  just  because  I  am  sure  of  your  devotion  to 
this  noble  cause  that  I  make  my  petition  to  you." 

"  But  I  know  nothing  about  the  project.  Where 
can  I  get  the  information  necessary  in  order  not 
to  be  misleading  ?  " 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  99 

"  Of  course  I  will  tell  you  all  about  it,  as 
briefly  and  clearly  as  I  can.  Come  upstairs  with 
me  to  my  dressing-room ;  there  you  can  take 
notes." 

This   boudoir,   on  the  first  floor,   was  a  little 
room,  with  wall  coverings  and  draperies  of  green 
silk,  and  situated  in  a  corner  of  the  house.    It 
overlooked  the  garden  and,   through  the  trees, 
one  could  see  the  blue  of  the  lake  and  the  violet 
shadows  of  the  mountains.     I  had  already  passed 
many  hours  hi  this  room,  Madam  Cosima  having 
had  the  kindness  to  read  to  me  there  the  Hindoo 
history    of   Nal   and   Damayanti,    translating   it 
from  the  German.    I  was  searching  just  then  for 
biographies  of  illustrious  lovers  of  all  countries, 
having  promised  to  contribute  a  series  of  por- 
traitures   for    the    publication    contemplated    by 
the  Editor  Lecroix,  and   entitled   "Les  Grandes 
Amoureuses."     Jean  Richepin,  Zola,   and  others 
collaborated  in  this  work,  which,  for  some  reason, 
was  never  completed.     A  few  portraitures  only 
appeared  in  print,  but  not  in  the  order  of  succes- 
sion, and  the  greater  number  of  the  manuscripts 
were  scattered. 

I  installed  myself  in  my  accustomed  place  on 


ioo  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

a  little  divan  fitted  into  the  corner.  Madam 
Cosima  seated  herself  in  front  of  me,  her  elbows 
resting  on  the  table.  She  was  charming  so, 
in  the  full  light,  and  with  her  crown  of  heavy 
blond  hair.  Her  soft  blue  eyes  shone  with  a 
tender  light ;  a  pleased  smile  half  disclosed  her 
pretty  teeth.  We  were  both  delighted  at  the  idea 
of  planning  something  which  might  give  pleasure 
to  the  Master ! 

I  took  a  pencil  and  paper,  and  listened  with  all 
my  ears. 

"  Perhaps  you  do  not  know,"  said  she,  "  that 
Wagner  was  condemned  to  death  in  Saxony, 
for  having  taken  part  in  the  revolution  of  '49. 
As  he  fled,  in  company  with  others,  he  owed 
his  escape  to  a  singular  chance.  In  a  village 
near  the  frontier,  his  companions  were  seized, 
but  they  did  not  see  Wagner,  who  was  asleep 
in  an  out-of-the-way  corner  of  the  hall  of  the 


inn." 


"  Wagner  condemned  to  death  !  " 

"It  is  incredible,  is  it  not  ?  But  you  must 
not  imagine  that  he  was  a  very  fierce  democrat. 
He  was  occupied  only  with  questions  of  art,  and, 
like  Walther  of  the  Meistersinger,  he  was  chiefly 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  101 

in  revolt  against  the  tyranny  of  routine.  He 
sincerely  believed  that  a  political  upheaval  would 
lead  to  an  artistic  reform ;  he  has  paid  for  that 
error  by  twelve  years  of  exile.  Defeated  as  the 
insurrection  was,  he  still  clung  to  the  illusion  that 
better  times  would  surely  come  for  his  country 
and  for  art.  So  then  it  was  that,  alone,  cut  off 
from  the  world,  with  nothing  to  live  for,  he  con- 
ceived, in  view  of  those  better  times,  the  plan  of 
his  tetralogy,  of  a  great  national  drama,  which 
should  make  to  live  before  the  regenerated  German 
people  the  gods  and  heroes  of  ancient  Germanic 
mythology.  Years  passed  ;  the  better  times  never 
came,  and  the  life  of  the  exile  grew  more  and  more 
bitter.  Yet,  beyond  any  doubt,  Richard  Wagner 
became  a  celebrated  and  popular  composer  through- 
out all  Germany.  Thanks  to  the  intervention 
of  my  father,  Tannhauser  and  Lohengrin  had  been 
given  in  Weimar,  and  also  in  other  capital  cities. 
The  exigencies  of  his  life  would  not  permit  of  his 
disdaining  the  situation  which  now  offered  itself. 
The  Master  was  aware  that  he  would  have  to 
come  down  from  the  heights  of  his  dream  and 
follow  this  more  accessible  path  which  opened 
before  him.  In  1857,  therefore,  he  interrupted 


102  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

the  composition  of  the  Ring  of  the  Nibelungen, 
of  which  the  Rheingold,  the  Valkyrie  and  two  acts 
of  Siegfried  were  completed." 

"  What !  was  he  already  so  far  advanced  in 
that  tremendous  work  ?  " 

"  Yes.  And  then  Wagner  performed  another 
miracle  :  he  composed  Tristan  and  Isolde  !  When 
the  amnesty  was  finally  granted  to  him,  he  went 
back  to  Germany.  He  saw  what  was  happening 
there  with  regard  to  matters  of  art,  and  that  he 
could  not  dream  of  producing  his  tetralogy. 
However,  he  published  the  poems  from  it,  pre- 
ceded by  a  preface  wherein  he  pointed  out  in  a 
supremely  able  way  the  steps  that  ought  to  be 
taken  to  attain  to  the  creation  of  a  great  National 
Art.  Then  he  applied  himself  to  the  composition 
of  his  Meister singer.  When  the  King  of  Bavaria 
summoned  Wagner,  he  had  read  this  preface, 
and  the  first  thing  he  said  to  him  was,  '  Finish 
your  Nibelungen.  I  feel  that  I  am  called  to  help 
you  realise  your  vision.' 

"  And  so  it  was  decided  to  build  a  theatre  that 
should  be  absolutely  independent  of  daily  repre- 
sentations and  of  change  of  programme.  A 
theatre  the  opening  of  which,  occurring  only 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  103 

once  a  year,  should  be  an  artistic  consecration. 
But  what  architect  would  be  capable  of  construct- 
ing this  monument  according  to  the  ideas  of  the 
Master?  None  other  than  Semper,  the  designer 
of  the  Dresden  Museum  and  theatre,  an  artist  of 
the  first  rank,  whose  talents  were  unquestioned. 
The  King  gave  him  the  command  to  draw  up  the 
plans.  Just  at  this  time  a  formidable  intrigue 
was  organised,  which  revealed  itself  in  a  succession 
of  spiteful  acts,  outrages,  and  furious  onslaughts 
against  him  whose  only  dream  was  to  endow 
his  country  with  a  superior  art.  This  reached 
such  a  point  that  Wagner,  fearing  for  his  royal 
friend,  withdrew  from  Munich.  But  Ludwig  II. 
would  not  let  go  his  prize.  He  banished  the 
principal  promoters  of  these  villainies,  among 
others  the  Minister  Pforten,  to  a  distance ;  and 
the  negotiations  with  Semper  on  the  subject  of 
the  theatre  were  continued. 

"  The  enemies  were  conquered  only  in  appear- 
ance. They  broke  loose  again  and,  after  an 
exhausting  struggle,  too  long  to  recount,  it  was 
found  necessary  to  give  up  the  building  of 
the  theatre.  Once  more  Wagner  retired.  He 
came  to  Tribschen,  and  again  took  up  his 


104  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

interrupted  work,  after  an  interval  of  ten 
years. 

"  The  King  only  asks  of  him  the  completion 
of  this  tetralogy,  and  it  is  his  wish  to  produce 
the  different  parts  of  it,  from  year  to  year,  in  his 
own  theatre,  since  the  foolishness  and  malignity 
of  those  about  him  will  not  allow  of  the  carrying 
out  of  Semper 's  plans.  But  Wagner  has  sworn 
that  he  will  not  be  present  at  any  of  these  frag- 
mentary representations  of  his  work.  He  con- 
siders himself  as  virtually  exiled  from  Bavaria. 
So,  for  the  second  time,  Destiny  has  reserved  for 
him  the  trial  of  not  being  present  at  the  per- 
formances of  his  own  works,  and  of  not  hearing 
the  resounding  music  of  his  immense  orchestra. 
That  is  the  fate  imposed  upon  him  to-day,  by 
his  artistic  conscience. 

ic  There,  dear  friend,  is  the  history  of  the  defeat 
of  a  man  of  genius  by  a  horde  of  envious  imbeciles. 
I  am  sure  that  Wagner  will  be  glad  if  you  re- 
establish the  truth  about  this  affair  which  has 
been  so  abominably  misrepresented. 

"  And  now  let  us  hurry  down.  They  have 
probably  already  noticed  our  absence." 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  105 

XXXIII 

Villiers  had  promised  Wagner  to  read  him  his 
one-act  play  La  Revolte,  which  the  younger 
Dumas,  who  admired  it  very  much,  had  caused 
to  be  accepted  at  "  The  Vaudeville,"  the  plan 
being  to  produce  it  the  following  winter.  Villiers 
had  always  postponed  this  serious  reading.  But 
finally  on  the  evening  before  the  last  day  of  our 
stay,  as  we  were  saying  good-night,  they  called 
out  to  him  not  to  forget  to  bring  the  manuscript 
when  we  should  return  on  the  morrow. 

Villiers  was  ambitious  to  be  a  great  actor — 
perhaps  he  was  one ;  for  a  long  time  his  mind 
was  possessed  by  a  single  idea,  that  of  learning 
the  role  of  Hamlet  and  interpreting  it  better  than 
anyone  else  had  ever  done.  He  had  even  ex- 
pended very  considerable  sums  on  the  preparation 
of  a  suitable  costume,  of  black  velvet  and  jet, 
which  he  often  put  on  and,  standing  before  a 
mirror,  passed  whole  nights  in  trying  different 
effects.  At  this  time  a  pair  of  padded  tights  was 
all  that  remained  of  the  costume,  and  Villiers 
sometimes  wore  them  on  social  occasions,  when 
he  wished  to  have  beautiful  legs. 


io6  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

The  reading  of  La  Revolte,  at  Tribschen,  was 
a  glorious  moment  for  the  author  of  that  work. 

When  he  read  or  declaimed,  there  was  no  longer 
any  question  of  inarticulate  speech  or  broken 
phrasing.  He  enunciated  the  text  in  a  clear 
and  resonant  voice,  and  with  such  perfect  art 
that  both  the  characters  and  the  sentiments 
were  wonderfully  distinct. 

He  was  listened  to  in  a  religious  silence,  with 
extreme  attention  and  an  increasing  interest. 

It  is  certain  that  if  the  play  fell,  in  "  The  Vaude- 
ville," before  the  Philistines  whom  it  scourged,  it 
was  avenged  in  advance  on  this  evening,  when 
it  went  off  with  shining  success. 

"  You  are  a  true  poet,"  said  Wagner  to  the 
author,  who  was  greatly  elated,  "  and  I  should 
like  to  see  you  turn  upon  the  ideal  world,  more 
important  than  the  real  for  artists  like  us,  the 
same  searching  gaze  with  which  you  have  pene- 
trated the  material  world.  I  should  like  to  see 
you  draw  forth  from  there  types  as  living  as  those 
which  you  have  just  evoked." 

Villiers  explained,  very  clearly  this  time,  that 
it  was  in  defence  of  the  ideal  that  he  had  created 
this  character — a  woman  haunted  by  lofty  aspira- 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  107 

tions,  yet  married  to  a  man  who  was  of  the 
earth  earthy,  utterly  incapable  of  understand- 
ing her,  and  constantly  torturing  her  without 
knowing  it. 

"  A  feminine  Prometheus,"  concluded  he, 
"  whose  vitals  are  devoured  by  a  goose  !  " 

The  evening  was  prolonged  as  much  as  possible, 
but  the  time  came,  all  the  same,  for  the  farewells 
and  separation.  It  was  agreed  upon  that  we 
should  pass  a  few  more  days  here  on  our  return 
from  Munich,  as  the  shortest  route  back  to  Paris 
is  certainly  by  way  of  Tribschen. 

A  last  time,  then,  we  drove  in  Wagner's  carriage 
along  the  dark  roads,  and  after  it  had  left  us  at 
the  hotel,  we  listened  for  a  long  time  to  the  sound 
of  the  wheels  and  the  beating  of  the  horses'  hoofs, 
becoming  gradually  fainter  and  fading  away,  little 
by  little,  into  the  night.  .  .  . 

Early  next  morning,  when  we  came  out  of  the 
Hotel  du  Lac  to  go  to  the  station,  whom  should 
we  find  waiting  for  us,  but  Russ,  the  beautiful 
Newfoundland ! 

He  sometimes  came  alone  to  see  us  in  this  way, 
but  on  this  especial  day  and  at  such  an  hour  it 
was  truly  very  singular !  Was  it  because  he  had 


io8  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

an  intimation  of  some  change,  K  Iiad  they  sent 
him  to  bear  us  a  last  salute  ? 

Very  gratified  and  very  tuich  touched,  we 
responded  to  his  caresses,  anoNjt  was  upon  his 
great,  kind  head  that,  with  sincere  emotion,  we 
pressed  the  kiss  of  farewell. 


PART  SECOND 


A  HEAVY  sky,  a  foggy  atmosphere  and  the 
warm  rain  that  falls  without  a  sound  :  the 
weather  is  entirely  in  unison  with  our  sentiments  ! 
No  more  blue  sky,  no  more  sun :  all  is  gray 
around  us  as  within  us.  The  lake  of  Constance, 
upon  which  we  sail  to  reach  Bavaria,  appears 
quite  ugly  under  the  mist,  after  the  lake  of  Lucerne 
which  was  for  us  so  blue  and  limpid !  Yet  this 
water  which  bears  us,  and  which,  alas  !  is  not  the 
same  that  bathes  the  dear  promontory  with  its 
tall  poplars,  bears  us  nevertheless  toward  a  pre- 
destined country,  toward  the  Theatre-Temple 
where  the  rites  of  our  religion  are  fulfilled. 

But  this  melancholy  must  be  driven  away,  and 
it  is  Villiers  who  makes  the  charge.  Still  full 
of  pride  over  his  success  of  the  evening  before, 
he  is  unable  to  stop  thinking  and  speaking  of  it. 

"  Hein !  How  he  listened  !  What  a  public  ! 
How  pleased  I  was  !  " 


109 


no  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

And  again  his  laugh  rings  out :  his  spirit  kindles 
through  the  obscurities  of  his  speech. 

During  breakfast  we  install  ourselves  upon  the 
deck  under  the  shelter  of  a  dripping  canvas. 
And  what  a  breakfast !  An  omelet  harder 
than  a  pancake,  and  filled  with  a  stuffing  the 
nature  of  which  defies  all  speculation. 

"  Yellow  turnips  !  "  hazards  Villiers. 

"  It  can't  be  yellow  turnips.  It  is  more  like 
bits  of  raw  pumpkin." 

We  consult  the  SpeiseJcarte  and  find  "  Omelet 
with  Apricots."  Quarters  of  unripe  apricot  in 
an  overcooked  omelet — what  an  infernal  com- 
bination !  0  Shade  of  Brillat-Savarin ! x  Our 
delicate  French  epicurism  is  doubtless  about  to 
be  put  to  a  rude  test  by  the  barbarously  heavy 
German  cooking. 

But  even  so !  Is  not  the  drinking  horn  of  the 
pilgrim  still  hanging  from  our  shoulders  ?  Does 
not  the  staff  still  burden  our  hands  ?  Roots 
torn  from  the  earth,  muddy  water  from  the 
brooks,  even  these  things  ought  to  content  us. 

True !  And  surely  one  can  see  that  it  is  only 
in  the  sincerest  charity,  in  order  to  give  them  a 

1  Author  of  "The  Physiology  of  Taste." 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  in 

pleasure,  that  we  bestow  upon  the  fishes  of  the 
lake  that  "  Omelet  with  Apricots." 

At  Lindau  the  boat  stops  and  we  enter  Bavaria. 
And  here  we  are  stirred  by  a  new  emotion  at  the 
thought  of  treading  this  soil,  of  being  in  the  land 
of  Ludwig  II.,  the  young  king  of  the  Graal,  whom 
we  ourselves  have  also  chosen  for  our  King. 
Here  all  speaks  of  him,  all  things  bear  his  colours 
and  his  crest :  the  time-tables,  the  gates,  the 
letter-boxes  are  painted  in  white  and  blue :  the 
royal  crown  in  chiselled  bronze  is  everywhere  to 
be  seen,  surmounting  the  coat  of  arms  with  its 
lozenge  of  blue  and  silver,  which  upholds  the  lions 
rampant ;  "  Konigreich  Bayern"  x  these  words 
are  on  all  sides,  on  the  fa9ades,  on  the  arch  of 
the  station,  on  the  railway  carriages. 

During  the  journey  to  Munich  we  try  to  recall 
everything  that  Wagner  has  told  us  about  the 
king :  best  of  all  is  Wagner's  first  interview 
with  the  messenger  whom  the  king  had  sent,  and 
who,  after  searching  vainly  for  a  long  time,  finally 
discovered  the  unfindable  great  man. 

This  was  at  Stuttgart :  Wagner  had  stopped 
there  after  fleeing  from  Vienna.  During  many 

1  Kingdom  of  Bavaria. 


ii2  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

months,  in  the  Opera-house  of  that  city,  he  had 
directed  the  rehearsals  of  "  Tristan  and  Isolde." 
His  hotel-keeper — having  long  since  presented  his 
bill,  was  kept  patient  by  expectations  of  the 
fruitful  receipts  of  the  first  night. 

But  after  seventy  rehearsals,  and  a  very  few 
representations,  by  reason  of  disaffection  and 
intrigue  the  work  was  declared  impossible  and  the 
company  broke  up.  The  danger  of  detention  for 
debt  still  existed ;  Wagner  dreaded  this  above 
all  things,  he  had  not  sufficient  resources  with 
which  to  satisfy  his  creditors,  but  falling  back 
upon  a  project  for  a  series  of  concerts  in 
Russia,  he  had  left  Vienna.  That  plan  also  fell 
through. 

Discouragement  and  bitter  despair  again  over- 
came him,  and  he  believed  that  from  that  hour 
he  should  no  longer  have  the  force  to  retrieve 
himself.  In  the  most  sombre  humour,  he  was 
making  his  preparations  to  leave  Stuttgart  when 
anmtendant  of  the  hotel  where  he  was  staying 
brought  to  him  a  visiting  card  upon  which  he 
read :  "  Von  Pfistermeister,  Aulic  Secretary  to 
His  Majesty  the  King  of  Bavaria." 

How  could  he  foresee  that  this  little  slip  of 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  113 

paper  marked  the  end  of  all  his   troubles,   and 
that  happiness  was  in  store  for  him  ? 

Wagner  suspected  that  it  might  be  some  creditor 
in  disguise,  and  refused  to  receive  the  unknown 
person.  But  the  visitor  insisted,  saying  that  King 
Ludwig  had  sent  him  and  that  he  could  not  be 
denied. 

When  the  announcer  of  miracles  appeared  he 
at  once  put  in  the  Master's  hand  the  King's 
portrait,  and  a  diamond  ring.  Ludwig  II.  wished 
to  declare  himself  a  most  fervent  admirer  of  the 
genius  of  Wagner,  and  offered  to  use  all  his  power 
to  aid  him  to  finish  his  work  and  to  realize  his 
dreams.  The  messenger  had  received  orders  not 
to  return  without  Richard  Wagner. 

Stirred  by  deep  emotion,  his  face  streaming 
with  tears  that  he  could  not  check,  Wagner 
comprehended  that  misfortune  was  finally  over- 
come, and  that  a  treaty  of  sublime  alliance  was 
about  to  be  made  between  himself  and  the  royal 
disciple  so  suddenly  revealed  to  him. 

The  first  act  of  this  eighteen-year-old  king, 
who  had  ascended  the  throne  less  than  a  month 
before,  was  to  render  homage  to  an  artist  of 
genius,  and  to  reach  out  to  him  a  fraternal  hand. 


ii4  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

While  Ludwig  II.,  in  his  palace  at  Munich, 
awaited  the  arrival  of  Wagner  with  joyful  im- 
patience, a  courtier  wishing  to  flatter  the  sovereign, 
said  to  hun : 

"  Men  of  genius  equal  to  that  of  Wagner  re- 
visit the  earth  only  once  in  a  thousand  years." 

"  A  man  with  genius  equal  to  that  of  Wag- 
ner," responded  the  king,  "  has  never  before 
come  to  this  world,  and  he  will  never  come 
again." 

And  Ludwig  II.,  to  the  great  scandal  of  his 
Court,  ran  hastily  down  the  staircase  of  honour, 
to  greet  Richard  Wagner. 

That  meeting  was  perhaps   one  of  the   most 
touching  and  memorable  incidents  of  history. 
Wagner  retains  a  magical  impression  of  it. 
"  The  king  is  so  comely,  his  thoughts  are  so 
elevated  and  his  soul  so  noble,"  said  he,  "  that 
I  am  afraid  his  life  may  pass  athwart  this  vulgar 
world  like  a  dream  of  the  Gods. 

"  He  knows  and  understands  me  like  my  own 
soul.  He  longs  to  remove  all  my  troubles  and 
embarrassments,  and  help  me  to  accomplish  my 
work !  " 

We  now  know  that  in  spite  of  his  power  and 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  115 

his  good  will,  the  king  was  not  able  to  attain 
to  the  realization  of  all  his  desires. 

The  Archangel  could  not  subdue  the  dragon, 
so  covered  by  the  impenetrable  breastplate  formed 
of  human  imbecility. 

The  sword  dulled  itself  against  that  thick  shell, 
the  crown  narrowly  escaped  being  shattered 
thereon :  the  hatred  and  fury  of  the  Philistines 
against  an  artist  of  genius  increased  this  time 
to  the  point  of  riot.  They  howled  in  the  streets, 
they  broke  the  windows  of  the  Master's  house, 
until  at  last,  fearing  some  misfortune  for  the  royal 
friend  who  persisted  in  defending  him,  he  feigned 
to  separate  himself  from  him,  and  quitted  Munich. 

If  the  king  as  chief  of  the  State  was  unhappily 
forced  to  give  way  before  the  popular  tempest, 
as  friend  he  did  not  concede  a  single  point,  and 
remained  true  to  his  faith. 

In  that  dear  retreat  of  Tribschen  which  Wagner 
then  found,  forever  delivered,  thanks  to  the 
royal  friend,  from  the  sordid  troubles  which 
bedim  the  spirit,  he  had  no  longer  any  but 
lofty  cares,  and,  in  retirement  and  peace,  he 
finished  the  "  Meistersinger  "  and  recommenced 
work  on  the  "  Ring  of  the  Nibelung." 


n6  WAGNER  AT  HOME 


II 

The  train  puffed  and  panted  as  it  laboured 
up  the  slope  which  rises  without  interruption 
from  Landau  to  Munich.  We  were  already  very 
high  up,  for  occasional  mists  of  cloud  drifted 
across  our  carriage.  Wonderful  landscapes  opened 
before  us ;  far  away  peaks  tearing  the  mist  into 
ribbons,  glimpses  of  deep  valleys  soon  lost  to 
sight,  forests  of  pines,  hills  of  a  fresh  velvety 
green  which  undulated  to  the  sky,  and  at  the 
stations  of  the  infrequent  hamlets  and  villages 
which  we  passed,  the  blue  and  white  of  the  royal 
escutcheons  always  reappeared  upon  the  gates 
and  arches. 

"  Konigreich  Bayern  I  "  How  happy  we  were 
to  be  in  the  domain  of  King  Charming !  We 
thought  and  spoke  only  of  him. 

This  same  route,  by  which  we  were  coming, 
he  once  travelled  in  the  opposite  direction,  alone 
and  in  secret,  in  order  to  go  and  surprise  the 
Master  at  Tribschen  and,  "  to  experience  again 
during  a  few  wonderful  hours  the  joy  of  being 
with  him." 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  117 

Wagner  had  told  us  the  story  of  this  journey 
of  the  King. 

"  It  was  the  22nd  of  May,  1866,  on  the  fifty- 
third  anniversary  of  my  birth.  Early  in  the 
morning  the  king  had  started  out  alone  from  the 
castle  of  Starnberg,  riding  his  horse  to  Biesenhofen 
where  he  had  taken  the  train  to  Lindau ;  there 
he  disembarked,  and  to  my  profound  astonishment, 
arrived  that  same  afternoon  at  Tribschen.  They 
set  up  a  camp-bed  for  him  in  my  study.  He 
begged  me  to  return  with  him  to  Bavaria,  but, 
for  his  own  sake,  I  felt  that  I  must  refuse. 

In  the  following  year,  Ludwig  II.  was  affianced 
to  his  cousin,  the  Archduchess  Sophie,  sister  to 
the  Empress  of  Austria,  and,  in  order  to  add  to 
the  significance  of  the  marriage  ceremonies,  fixed 
for  the  12th  October,  they  reserved  for  this  date 
the  first  representation  of  "  Die  Meistersinger." 
But,  before  that  time  arrived,  one  evening  when 
"  Tristan  "  was  being  given  at  the  Royal  Theatre, 
the  prospective  bride  appeared  in  a  box  in  an 
unceremonious  toilet ;  she  listened  to  the  work 
with  an  absent  air,  and  without  attempting  to 
disguise  the  fact  that  she  was  bored.  She  was 
not  Wagnerian  in  her  tastes !  The  discovery 


u8  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

abruptly  broke  the  spell :  the  King  judged  that 
a  person  who  shared  so  little  in  his  faith  and  his 
enthusiasm  ought  not  to  be  his  wife,  and  he  closed 
his  heart  against  her. 

We  admired  him  for  that,  and  Villiers  declared 
that  if  he  understood  German  better  he  would 
compose  a  poem  in  which  he  would  say  magnificent 
things,  and  would  send  it  to  Ludwig  II. 

This  idea  led  us  back  to  the  dedication  printed 
at  the  beginning  of  the  score  of  "  Die  Walkure" 
those  well-known  stanzas  that  Wagner  addressed 
"  To  the  royal  friend,"  consecrating  him  in  this 
way  to  an  ever  glorious  immortality. 

The  verses  are  reputed  to  be  untranslatable 
into  French,  and  that  fact  naturally  incited  us 
to  make  the  attempt.  One  of  our  number  was 
thoroughly  conversant  with  the  language  of  Goethe, 
and  for  some  time  back  we  had  been  working  at 
the  translation.  What  a  good  chance  to  go  on 
with  it,  during  these  hours  of  the  journey  ! 

In  the  original,  Wagner's  poem  is  very  beautiful, 
with  an  unusual  grace  and  exquisite  subtlety  of 
expression. 

What  would  it  be  in  French  ? 

Here  is  our  attempt  at  a  translation  : 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  119 


AU  ROYAL  AMI. 

"  O  roi,  doux  seigneur  qui  proteges  ma  vie  ! 

Toi  qui  reveles  la  supreme  bonte, 

Combien,  arrive  au  but  de  mes  efforts,  je  m'efforce 

De  trouver  le  mot  juste  qui  t'exprimerait  ma  gratitude  ! 

Pour  le  dire  ou  1'ecrire,  comme  je  la  cherche  en  vain  ! 

Et  pourtant,  de  plus  en  plus  imperieux,  m'entraine  le  desir 

De  trouver  ce  mot  qui  exprimerait 

Le  sentiment  de  reconnaissance  que  je  porte  dans  mon  coeur. 

Ce  que  tu  es  pour  moi,  je  ne  puis,  Emerveille,  m'en  rendre 

compte 

Qu'en  dvoquant  ce  que  je  fus  sans  toi  .  .  . 
Pas  une  etoile  ne  se  leva  pour  moi,  que  je  ne  la  visse  palir ; 
Pas  un  espoir  que  je  n'eusse  perdu. 
Livre  au  bon  plaisir,  a  la  faveur  du  monde, 
Aux  jeux  du  gain  et  du  risque, 

Tout  ce  qui  en  moi  luttait  pour  1' Emancipation  de  1'art 
Se  vit  trahi  par  le  sort,  sombra  dans  la  bassesse. 

Celui  qui,  jadis,  commanda  a  la  branche  dess£chee 

De  reverdir  dans  la  main  du  pretre, 

Bien  qu'il  m'eut  ravi  tout  espoir  de  salut 

Et  que  la  derniere  illusion  consolante  se  fut  eVanouie, 

Fortifia  en  mon  sein  cette  foi 

En  moi  que  je  puisais  en  moi-me'me  ; 

Comme  je  lui  demeurais  fidele, 

II  fit  refleurir  pour  moi  la  branche  dess6ch£e. 

Ce  que  solitaire  et  muet  je  gardais  au  fond  de  moi 

Vivait  aussi  dans  le  sein  d'un  autre ; 

Ce  qui  agitait   profondement   et  douloureusement  1' esprit 

d'un  homme 
Emplissait  d'un  joie  sacree  un  coeur  d'adolescent ; 


120  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

Ce  qui  nous  entrainait  dans  une  ardeur  printaniere 
Vers  un  meme  but, — conscient  .  .  .  inconscient  .  .  . 
Devait  s'epancher  comrae  une  joie  du  printemps  : 
Double  foi,  faisant  naitre  une  frondaison  nouvelle. 

Tu  es  le  doux  printemps  qui  m'as  pare"  a  nouveau, 

Qui  as  rajeuni  la  seve  de  mes  branches  et  de  mes  ramures ; 

C'est  ton  appel  qui  m'a  fait  sortit  de  la  nuit, 

De  la  nuit  hivernale  qui  tenait  inerte  ma  force  ; 

Ton  altier  salut,  qui  m'a  charme, 

M'arrache  a  la  soufFrance  dans  une  joie  soudaine 

Et  je  marche,  a  present,  fier  et  heureux,  par  de  nouveaux 

sentiers, 
Dans  le  royaume  estival  de  la  grdce.  .  .  . 

Quel  mot  pourrait  done  te  faire  comprendre 

Tout  ce  que  tu  es  pour  moi  ? 

Si  je  peux  &  peine  exprimer  le  peu  que  je  suis, 

Toi,  au  contraire,  tu  es  roi  en  tout. 

Aussi  la  lign£e  de  mes  oeuvres  repose-t-elle  en  toi, 

Dans  une  paix  bien  heureuse. 

Et  puisque  tu  as  combte  tous  mes  espoirs, 

Delicieusement  j'ai  renonc6  &  1'espoir. 

Done  je  suis  pauvre,  je  ne  garde  qu'une  chose, 

La  foi  a  laquelle  s'unit  la  tienne  : 

C'est  elle,  la  puissance  qui  fait  que  je  me  montre  fier, 

C'est  elle  qui  saintement  trempe  mon  amour. 

Mais  si,  partag^e,  cette  foi  est  encore  &  mottle"  mienne 

Elle  strait  tout  entiere  perdu  pour  moi  si  elle  venait  a  te 

manquer : 

Ainsi,  c'est  toi  seul  qui  me  donnes  la  force  de  te  remercier 
Grace  a  ta  foi  royale  et  sans  defaillance." 

We  had  great  difficulty  in  making  this  trans- 
lation and  were  far  from  satisfied  with  it.  But 
there  was  no  more  time,  the  train  was  already 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  121 

slowing  up  to  the  station,  we  had  reached  Munich 
— Miinchen  \ 

Outside  the  station,  the  omnibus  which  we  took 
for  the  hotel  of  "  Trois  Rois  Mages"  after  going 
a  short  distance  was  obliged  to  stop  before 
a  military  orchestra.  Fine  looking,  fair-haired 
soldiers  in  sky-blue  uniforms,  were  grouped  about 
their  leader,  and  were  playing  nothing  else  than 
the  religious  march  from  "  Lohengrin  !  " 

Later  on,  Wagner,  in  fun,  tried  to  make  us 
believe  that  we  owed  it  to  him  that  we  had  been 
"  so  religiously  received." 

Ill 

What  an  amusing  city  is  Munich,  with  its 
architectural  follies !  I  do  not  know  another 
outside  of  France  which  seems  to  me  so  attractive. 
Ludwig  I.  probably  had  a  great  love  for  memorials, 
and  certainly,  he  hesitated  at  nothing.  It  was 
he  who  wished  to  reproduce  and  bring  together 
in  his  capital,  all  the  edifices  which  he  had  admired 
in  the  course  of  his  travels ;  so  this  pretty  city 
resembles  the  "  Rue  des  Nations  "  of  some  universal 
exposition. 

Do  you  love  the  Florentine  style  ?    Here  is 


122  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

the  library  and  its  majestic  marble  staircase 
leading  to  the  "  loggia  dei  Lanzi,"  copied  exactly 
from  that  of  Florence  ;  a  little  farther  on,  under 
the  name  of  Konigbau  you  will  see  a  reproduc- 
tion of  the  famous  Pitti  Palace.  If  you  prefer 
Roman  art,  the  arch  of  Constantine  is  close  at 
hand,  and  you  will  also  come  across  a  fifteenth- 
century  dome.  If  it  is  Greek  art  that  attracts 
you,  you  may  see  the  Propylaeum  of  Athens, 
the  Glyptothek  in  the  Ionic  style,  or  the  palace 
of  Fine  Arts  in  the  Corinthian  style :  or  better 
still,  near  a  consecrated  wood,  the  Hall  of  Fame. 
If  you  dream  of  Venice,  you  have  only  to 
listen  to  the  fluttering  wings  of  the  pigeons  of 
Saint  Mark's,  who  have,  evidently,  all  migrated 
to  Munich ! 

There  are  some  buildings  like  cathedrals,  high 
and  loaded  down  with  sculptures,  but  they  are 
of  moulded  terra- cotta.  The  Renaissance  style 
is  well  represented,  the  rococo  abounds,  Egyptian 
art,  even,  is  not  forgotten.  In  order  to  com- 
memorate a  noble  feat  of  arms,  they  have  erected 
a  metal  obelisk,  modelled  upon  the  monolith 
of  Luxor,  but  this  one  has  not  the  merit  of  being 
a  single  casting  of  bronze. 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  123 

The  International  Exposition  of  Painting, 
ostensible  reason  for  our  journey,  was,  I  think, 
very  remarkable ;  it  did  honour  to  the  group 
of  artists  who  organized  it  and  brought  into 
prominence  the  Bavarian  school  of  painting. 
But  I  am  forced  to  admit  that  in  spite  of  the  very 
conscientious  accounts  that  I  published  in  I 
cannot  remember  how  many  journals,  I  recall 
only  very  confused  memories  of  them.  But  I 
do  remember  one  painter,  perhaps  forgotten  to- 
day, who  was  then  at  the  beginning  of  his  career 
and  was  much  talked  of :  Gabriel  Max — I  can 
still  see  in  my  mind  his  lovely  martyr,  who,  in 
the  whiteness  of  death  seemed  to  sleep  so  easily 
upon  the  cross. 

On  the  other  hand,  a  visit  to  the  Pinakothek 
made  an  ineffaceable  impression  upon  me.  The 
Rubens  collection  above  all  seemed  to  me  superb  : 
the  artist  triumphs  there  in  all  his  fleshly  glory — 
he  is  jubilant,  dazzling  ! 

And  what  perfect  taste  was  shown  in  the  placing 
of  the  canvases  !  What  a  sensible  arrangement ! 
As  far  as  possible,  each  room  held  the  works  of 
a  single  master  grouped  upon  a  favourable  back- 
ground and  under  a  well  managed  lighting.  In 


124  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

this  way  the  intensity  of  effect  was  doubled. 
One  experienced  to  the  full  the  painter's  charm, 
and  the  contrast  between  one  master  and  another 
was  startling.  For  instance  in  the  hall  of  Van 
Dyck,  as  one  entered  after  viewing  the  resplendent 
walls  of  the  hall  of  Rubens,  the  subdued  colouring 
gave  the  impression  of  restful  and  mysterious 
shadows,  out  of  which  seemed  to  steal  wonderful 
white  masks  of  a  distinction  that  is  without  equal. 
Then,  too,  the  catalogue,  translated  into  French, 
did  not  lack  amusement  for  us  :  one  read  such 
things  as  these : 

"  The  Virgin  is  seated  at  evening  before  an 
edifice :  at  her  knee  the  little  Jesus  seizes  with 
the  right  hand  the  lung  border  of  her  robe." 

"  Vanity  under  the  guise  of  a  beautiful  woman 
of  luxurious  form,  supporting  herself  with  the 
left  hand  which  holds  a  dying  candle,  upon  a 
round  mirror." 

"  A  wolf  devours  a  lamb  while  a  fox  also  enters 
there." 

"  A  woman  seated  beside  an  ass  which  brays 
on  the  ground  nursing  her  infant." 

"  Two  dogs  quarrel  with  a  calf's  head." 

"  Portrait  of  the  Elector  Maximilian  fully  braced." 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  125 

"  St  Martin  on  white  horseback." 
;'  The  Christ,  after  having  suffered  death,  re- 
ceives graciously  the  four  repentant  sinners." 
It  is  a  good  thing  to  laugh  a  little  ! 

IV 

Each  morning  bills  were  posted,  giving  the 
programmes  of  the  music  to  be  played  in  the 
different  beer-gardens  of  Munich  during  the  two 
o'clock  dinner-hour.  Numerous  selections  from 
the  Wagner  operas  appeared  hi  these  programmes, 
and  so  we  decided  to  leave  the  hotel  of  the  "  Trois 
Rois  Mages  "  and  its  commonplace  table  d'hote 
in  order  to  take  furnished  apartments  and  be  free 
to  choose  the  place  for  our  meals  according  to 
the  musical  menu.  Behold  us  then,  our  resolu- 
tion taken,  rushing  from  one  end  of  the  city  to 
the  other  in  search  of  the  appointed  restaurant, 
and,  once  there,  hobnobbing  with  its  population, 
whether  turbulent  students,  or  middle -class 
families  who  love  to  dine  to  the  sound  of  fiddles. 

To  us,  who  were  so  unaccustomed  to  them, 
these  restaurant  orchestras  seemed  excellent,  and 
we  had  great  pleasure  in  listening  to  the  fragments 
which  we  so  rarely  had  the  opportunity  to  hear 


126  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

at  home.  We  were  delighted  to  notice  that  the 
dining  public  always  gave  an  especially  warm 
reception  to  the  selections  from  Wagner. 

One  day  we  went  to  a  very  distant  restaurant 
where  the  overture  of  "  Die  Meistersinger  "  was 
to  be  played.  The  orchestra  was  disposed  in 
a  most  extraordinary  fashion.  In  default  of  a 
better  place  they  had  installed  it  upon  the  out- 
side gallery  of  a  chalet  which  was  in  the  midst 
of  the  garden,  a  narrow  balcony  where  two 
musicians  could  with  difficulty  sit  abreast,  so 
that  the  whole  number  of  the  players  extended 
from  one  end  to  the  other  of  the  fagade  and  the 
double-basses  were  a  long  distance  from  the  brass 
instruments.  We  left  the  table  where  we  had 
dined  to  find  seats  in  the  enclosure  so  that  the 
sounds  should  be  less  scattered,  and  took  our 
places  in  front  of  the  balcony  facing  the  leader, 
who  occupied  the  very  centre. 

Not  far  from  us  were  seated  three  young  men 
who  had  also  drawn  near  to  the  musicians,  and  who 
scrutinised  us  secretly  and  persistently.  One  of 
them,  a  very  fair  blond,  tall  and  slight,  seemed  to 
me  the  perfect  type  of  the  German  student ;  he 
had  long  hair,  straight  as  a  poker,  of  a  colour 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  127 

lighter  than  his  face,  and  his  delicate  profile 
recalled  the  portraits  of  Schiller.  One  of  his  com- 
panions, whose  golden  beard  and  gold-rimmed  eye- 
glasses glistened  in  the  sun,  had  an  expressive  face 
which  fairly  radiated  happiness  and  enthusiasm. 
The  third  was  rather  small,  and  one  could 
hardly  see  his  features  through  the  disordered 
profusion  of  his  brown  hair,  his  eyebrows  and 
his  beard.  A  white  dog  stayed  close  by  his 
side. 

Suddenly  I  heard  the  young  man  with  the  golden 
beard  say,  in  a  very  audible  voice,  as  he  looked 
at  us. 

"  I'll  wager  it  is  they." 

After  the  last  notes  of  the  overture  of  "  Die 
Meister singer,"  as  we  applauded  with  all  our  might, 
the  group  of  strangers  came  nearer. 

"  No  longer  any  doubt,"  one  of  them  said, 
"  since  they  applauded." 

And  the  young  man  with  the  golden  beard 
advanced  without  hesitation. 

"  I  am  Hans  Richter — "  said  he  as  he  saluted 
us — "  and  you  certainly  must  be  the  friends  who 
have  just  been  visiting  Richard  Wagner.  The 
Master  wrote  me  to  put  myself  at  your  service 


128  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

and  to  act  as  your  guide  about  Munich,  but  he 
did  not  tell  me  where  to  find  you." 

Hans  Richter,  the  chief  of  Orchestra  of  the 
Royal  Theatre,  who  would  have  the  honour  of 
conducting  the  "  Rheingold  !  " 

After  cordial  greetings  Richter  presented  his 
friends,  first  the  heavily  bearded  man,  then  the 
other. 

"  Herr  Scheffer,  a  Wagnerian  fanatic.  Herr 
Franz  Servais,  son  of  the  celebrated  Belgian 
violinist ;  he  has  just  come  from  Brussels  to  hear 
the  "  Rheingold" 

So  the  man  who  had  appeared  to  be  the  per- 
sonification of  a  German  student  was  a  Belgian 
composer ! 

All  seated  at  the  same  table  with  foaming 
bocks  before  us,  we  quickly  became  acquainted, 
and  found  each  other  very  congenial,  since  we 
served  under  the  same  banner.  It  appeared 
that  they  had  been  searching  for  us  all  over 
Munich.  Our  passage  to  the  hotel  of  the  Three 
Kings  had  been  traced,  but  we  had  gone  from 
there  without  leaving  any  address,  and  from  that 
point  they  could  find  no  clue.  Herr  Scheffer  had 
been  very  keen  to  find  us  before  this  especial 


CORNER  OF  JUDITH   GAUTIER'S  SALON. 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  129 

day  was  over,  and  had  applied  to  the  police,  but 
chance  had  forestalled  them. 

'  We  had  promised,"  said  Richter,  "  to  conduct 
you  to  a  reunion  this  evening,  at  the  house  of 
the  Countess  of  Schleinitz.  We  shall  all  be 
there." 

"  Liszt  will  be  there,"  exclaimed  Servais,  "  he 
arrived  in  Munich  yesterday,  and  you  will  also 
see  the  Countess  Muchanoif." 

"  Liszt !  " 

I  thought  of  Cosima,  and  her  sorrow  at  being 
disapproved  of  by  her  father :  I  felt  I  would 
rather  not  see  him.  But  my  companions  had 
already  joyfully  accepted,  and  had  arranged  a 
meeting  place  for  the  evening,  at  eight  o'clock. 


The  Countess  of  Schleinitz,  wife  of  the  minister 
of  the  royal  house  of  Prussia,  at  whose  house  we 
met,  was  an  extremely  gracious  little  person,  very 
small  and  delicate,  even  fragile.  She  spoke  French 
like  a  Parisian,  a  French  sparkling  with  wit  and 
drollery,  and  in  her  glance  there  was  a  gleam  of 
passion.  One  could  have  said  : — 

"  Le  Caprice  a  taille  son  petit  nez  charmant  ..." 


130  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

A  little  snub  nose  tip-tilted  with  an  elegant 
impertinence.  The  charm  of  her  smile  was  trebled 
by  the  dimples  it  made  in  her  cheeks. 

They  did  not  fail  to  introduce  me  to  a  great 
number  of  people,  whose  names,  few  of  them 
easy  to  remember,  have  escaped  me.  I  recall 
that  of  Lenbach,  the  already  illustrious  painter, 
and  I  remember  the  beautiful  head  of  Edward 
Schure,  with  its  inspired  and  slightly  "  absent " 
air. 

The  appearance  of  Franz  Liszt  astonished 
me. 

I  was  evidently  out  of  the  running,  I  was 
ignorant  of  everything :  why  that  long  black 
cassock  ?  Was  he  a  priest  ?  With  that  smooth- 
shaven  face,  had  he  also  a  tonsure  in  the  locks 
that  fell  long  and  straight  to  his  shoulders  ?  But 
what  eyes,  like  a  lion,  what  burning  glances  under 
the  shaggy  eyebrows  !  What  overmastering  irony 
in  the  curves  of  the  large  mouth  with  its  thin 
lips !  In  the  whole  attitude  what  majesty, 
tempered  with  benevolence. 

The  entrance  of  Liszt  caused  an  extreme  excite- 
ment in  the  assemblage,  and  I  became  more  and 
more  surprised.  Could  it  be  that  he  was  a  saint  ? 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  131 

They  showed  such  an  extraordinary  veneration 
for  him,  especially  the  women.  They  hurried 
toward  him,  and  almost  kneeling,  kissed  his 
hands,  raising  looks  of  ecstasy  to  his  face. 

But  my  attention  was  suddenly  drawn  to  a 
woman  who  had  arrived  at  the  same  moment — 
surely  this  must  be  she,  the  mysterious  beauty 
who  came  from  the  north,  in  a  whirlwind  of  snow, 
and  herself  whiter  than  the  snow.  The  lady  with 
eyes  like  Parma  violets,  whom  the  poets  have 
sung  with  such  longing,  the  Countess  of  Kalergis, 
now  Countess  Muchanoff.  La  Symphonie  en  blanc 
majeur  herself  in  fact !  As  yet  she  was  standing 
with  her  back  to  me,  at  the  other  side  of  the  grand 
piano.  People  were  crowding  about  her  as  she 
took  their  outstretched  hands.  She  was  tall, 
a  muslin  scarf  covered  her  shoulders,  her  pale 
blond  hair  curled  at  the  nape  of  her  neck.  I 
repeated  under  my  breath  some  words  from  the 
well-known  poem  which  she  had  inspired  my 
father  to  write,  so  long  ago  : — 

"  Conviant  la  vue  enivree 
De  sa  boreale  fraicheur 
A  des  regals  de  chair  nacree, 
A  des  debauches  de  blancheur. 


i32  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

Son  sein,  neige  moulee  en  globe, 
Centre  les  camelias  blancs 
Et  le  blanc  satin  de  sa  robe 
Soutient  des  combats  insolents. 

Dans  ces  grandes  batailles  blanches, 
Satins  et  fleurs  ont  le  dessous, 
Et,  sans  demander  leurs  revanches, 
Jaunissent  comme  des  jaloux. 

De  quel  mica  de  neige  vierge, 

De  quelle  moelle  de  roseau, 

De  quelle  hostie  et  de  quel  cierge 

A-t-on  fait  le  blanc  de  sa  peau  ?  .  .  ." 

Alfred  de  Musset  was  also  a  fervent  admirer 
of  this  white  idol,  and  later,  Heinrich  Heine 
paraphrased,  in  honour  of  her  whom  he  called, 
"  The  Cathedral  of  the  God  Love,"  the  verses 
of  Theophile  Gautier : 

"Aupres  d'elle  la  neige  de  1'Himalaya 

Parait  grise  comme  la  cendre ; 
Le  lis  que  sa  main  saisit,  aussitot,  par  le  contraste 
Ou  par  jalousie,  devient  couleur  de  rouille  ..." 

I  really  dreaded  the  moment  when  she  would 
turn,  and,  as  she  made  a  movement  to  do  so, 
I  closed  my  eyes,  to  keep  for  a  little  longer  the 
illusion  of  the  past. 

Almost  at  once  I  hear  the  rustling  of  silk  close 
beside  me ;  a  clear  musical  voice  addresses  me, 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  i33 

sweetly  modulated,  with  a  slight  Russian  accent. 
The  Countess  Muchanoff  seats  herself  beside  me 
and  presses  my  hand,  as  she  assures  me  that  there 
is  no  need  for  an  introduction,  for  she  has  recog- 
nised me  without  hearing  my  name,  and  that 
having  the  same  admirations,  the  same  ardent 
beliefs,  we  must  belong  to  the  same  ideal  family 
and  should  love  even  before  we  know  each 
other. 

She  seems  a  very  great  lady,  very  sure  of  her- 
self, intelligent,  and  filled  with  a  passionate  love 
of  art.  I  look  for  the  white  camellias  near  the 
snow  of  her  breast — very  marble-like,  in  truth, 
but  with  the  help,  perhaps,  of  pearl  white  and  a 
touch  of  rice  powder.  Her  face  is  regular,  pale 
under  the  fair  hair  so  cleverly  arranged.  Although 
they  believe  her  to  be  too  superior  to  linger  over 
any  artifices  of  coquetry,  she  undoubtedly  seeks 
to  retain  and  to  prolong  a  beauty  so  celebrated, 
but  she  depends  still  more  upon  the  graces  of  her 
mind,  which  time  does  not  aifect,  upon  her  in- 
tellectual culture  and  her  musical  talent. 

With  a  coaxing  familiarity  she  makes  a  strong 
effort  to  win  me,  to  inspire  me  with  confidence, 
but  I  am  haunted  by  the  idea  that  she  is  prejudiced 


134  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

against  Cosima,  that  she  has  betrayed  her  friend- 
ship, and  I  find  it  an  effort  to  respond  to  her 
friendly  advances,  or  to  abandon  my  reserve. 

Liszt  in  his  turn  approaches  me ;  he  speaks  of 
my  father,  whom  he  knew ;  he  has  seen  me  as  a 
child  and  remembers  me,  although  I  have  no 
memory  of  him.  I  find  that  he  has  the  very 
suave  manners  of  a  priest — but  how  can  he  be 
a  priest,  and  why  are  all  these  women  so  taken 
with  him  ?  Just  now  they  are  greatly  perturbed 
at  seeing  him  occupied  with  one  who  has  made 
no  advances,  and  so  they  cluster  about  him 
again,  begging  him  to  play  something,  teasing 
him  to  sit  down  at  the  piano.  This  he  refuses  to 
do  and  repulses  them  rather  rudely,  declaring 
that  it  is  Madame  Muchanoff  who  ought  to  play, 
that  he  himself  has  too  much  pleasure  in  listening 
to  her  to  seat  himself  at  the  piano  when  she  is 
present. 

The  Countess  rises,  nonchalant  and  disdainful, 
she  draws  off  her  gloves  slowly,  and  her  smile 
says  plainly  enough  that  she  devotes  herself  only 
to  spare  Liszt  a  drudgery,  and  that  she  is  amused, 
to  the  point  of  derision,  at  the  jealous  rage  of  all 
those  who  will  be  forced  to  applaud  her. 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  135 

"  L'ivoire,  ou  ses  mains  ont  des  ailes, 
Et,  comme  des  papillons  blancs, 
Sur  la  pointe  des  notes  freles 
Suspendent  leurs  baisers  tremblants  ..." 


These  lines  mingle,  in  my  mind,  with  the 
phrases  of  the  nocturne  that  the  Countess  plays. 
She  is  certainly  talented  ;  but  it  seems  to  me  that 
her  playing  lacks  restraint,  that  she  exaggerates 
and  plays  with  too  much  abandonment. 

After  she  had  stopped  playing  Liszt  offered 
me  his  arm  to  conduct  me  to  the  refreshment 
table,  in  the  face  of  the  envious  and  uncompre- 
hending glances  of  the  greater  number  of  the 
women.  He  allowed  every  one  else  to  pass 
before  us,  with  the  idea,  no  doubt,  of  with- 
drawing with  me  a  little  to  one  side.  In  fact,  as 
soon  as  we  were  alone,  he  said  to  me  in  a  low 
voice  : — 

"  You  have  seen  Cosima  ?  " 

I  had  none  of  that  sentiment  which  the  high 
personality  of  Liszt  evoked  among  his  intimates. 
I  was  absolutely  ignorant  of  the  beauty  of  his 
compositions,  which  I  was  to  admire  so  much  in 
the  future,  and  of  the  incomparable  loftiness  of 
his  character.  I  considered  him  only  as  a  very 


i36  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

celebrated  pianist.  So  I  was  not  in  the  least 
intimidated,  and,  believing  him  to  be  hostile  to 
the  best  interests  of  his  daughter,  it  was  with  a 
decided  vehemence  that  I  replied  to  him  :— 

"  I  beg  of  you,  do  not  say  anything  against 
your  daughter  to  me.  I  am  her  partisan  to  such 
an  extent  that  I  cannot  admit  any  blame.  In 
the  face  of  a  personality  so  superhuman  as  Richard 
Wagner's,  the  prejudices  and  even  the  laws  of 
men  cannot  prevail.  Who  would  not  feel  the 
fascination  and  submit  joyfully  to  the  supremacy 
of  such  a  genius  ?  In  Cosima's  place,  you  would 
do  as  she  does,  and  it  is  your  duty  as  a  father  not 
to  put  any  obstacle  in  the  way  of  the  realization 
of  the  great  event  to  which  she  has  the  right  to 
look  forward." 

Liszt  grasped  me  warmly  by  the  arm. 

"  I  am  entirely  of  your  opinion,  but  I  may  not 
express  it,"  said  he  in  a  still  lower  voice.  "  The 
habit  which  I  wear  imposes  certain  opinions 
which  I  cannot  openly  deny.  I  know  the  tempta- 
tions of  the  heart  too  well  to  judge  severely : 
conventions  force  me  to  be  silent,  but  within 
myself,  I  desire  more  than  anyone  else  for  a  legal 
solution  of  this  painful  affair.  I  can  do  nothing 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  137 

to  hasten  it ;  as  to  retarding  it  in  any  way  what- 
ever, I  have  never  had  such  a  thought." 

Greatly  surprised  and  relieved  I  cried  out, 
impulsively — 

'  Will  you  authorise  me  to  write  that  to 
Cosima  ?  " 

"  Certainly,"  he  replied.  "  I  wished  to  ask  you 
to  do  so.  Assure  her  that  there  is  no  need  of  a 
rupture  between  us,  that  my  heart  is  with  her, 
but  that  she  ought  to  comprehend  my  reserve, 
and  to  show,  before  the  world,  a  certain  considera- 
tion with  respect  to  me,  until  the  new  order  of 
things  is  established." 

"  I  will  write  this  very  evening.  If  you  could 
know  what  relief  and  what  happiness  this  news 
will  give  them." 

"  I  am  very  glad  of  that.  You  see  how  I  have 
seized  the  first  opportunity  that  has  offered  to 
make  known  to  my  daughter,  secretly,  my  inner- 
most thought.  I  have  sought  for  such  an  oppor- 
tunity without  finding  it.  In  whom  could  I 
confide  ?  Envy  and  hypocrisy  find  a  place  in 
all  human  hearts.  Very  few  have  your  frankness 
and  your  beautiful,  unrestrained  enthusiasm.  .  .  . 
But  let  us  go  in.  I  believe  that  we  are  watched, 


138  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

and  that  people  are  already  surprised  by  our  long 
conversation." 

In  fact  many  anxious  and  irritated  looks  were 
directed  toward  us,  and,  if  the  eyes  of  the  women 
clustered  there,  had  been  daggers,  I  should  never 
have  passed  the  threshold  of  the  dining-room 
alive. 

During  the  refreshment  hour  Villiers  de  1'Isle- 
Adam  talked  with  the  Countess  Muchanoff,  who 
appeared  to  be  struck  with  amazement.  He  had 
pinned  upon  his  evening  coat  the  decoration  of 
the  Knights  of  Malta,  a  little  cross  set  with  white 
enamel,  and  he  explained  to  her  that  he  was  Grand 
Master  of  that  order,  which  had  been  bestowed 
upon  one  of  his  ancestors  in  1520.  France  not 
recognizing  the  knighthood  of  Malta,  he  could 
only  wear  the  insignia  when  abroad.  Then,  at 
least,  he  could  wear  them  conscientiously. 

Villiers  then  proceeded  to  recount  the  com- 
plicated and  confused  history  of  his  incontestable 
claims  to  the  throne  of  Greece,  by  reason  of  this 
Grand-mastership.  He  had  even,  once  upon  a 
time,  presented  his  claim  as  a  candidate  for  the 
royal  succession,  and  had  had  a  memorable 
campaign  in  the  effort  to  maintain  it. 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  139 

From  heraldic  fantasies  and  aristocratic  vanities, 
Villiers  passed,  happily,  to  the  more  reasonable 
pride  of  the  poet :  he  narrated  his  reading  at 
Wagner's  house  and  his  glorious  success,  and, 
when  they  separated,  he  had  promised  the  Countess 
Muchanofi  to  give,  at  the  Hdtel  des  Quatre 
Saisons,  on  any  evening  which  she  should  be 
pleased  to  name,  a  second  reading  of  La  Revolte. 

VI 

We  very  soon  became  intimate  with  Franz 
Servais,  and  grew  to  regard  him  as  our  good 
friend.  It  was  through  him  that  I  tried  to  pene- 
trate some  of  the  mysteries  that  seemed  to  me 
to  envelope  the  life  of  Liszt,  and  first  of  all  I 
asked  how,  and  why,  he  was  a  priest  ? 

"  It  was  only  four  years  ago  that  he  took  the 
orders,"  said  Servais  to  me,  "  and  became  the 
Abbe  Liszt." 

"  In  what  way,  and  why  ?  " 

"  No  one  knows  !  On  his  return  from  a  journey 
to  Rome,  he  was  a  priest.  Perhaps  he  wished, 
in  this  way,  to  explain  to  the  world,  which  had 
been  in  a  state  of  excitement  over  his  projects  of 
marriage  with  the  Princess  Wittgenstein,  that 


140  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

they  were  definitely  abandoned.  I  believe  also 
that  he  was  relieved  at  being  able  to  take  away 
from  all  the  women  who  adored  him,  the  hope  of 
obtaining  his  hand." 

"  But  as  a  matter  of  fact,  all  the  women  seem, 
even  now,  to  quarrel  over  him  quite  openly.  Does 
not  his  habit  make  a  difference  to  them  ?  " 

"  No,  on  the  contrary,  it  inflames  them  the 
more,  it  has  all  the  fascination  of  forbidden 
fruit !  Liszt  exercises,  moreover,  an  extraordi- 
nary influence  over  the  women  and  even  the  men 
who  understand  and  admire  him.  I  am  able  to 
speak  of  this  with  knowledge,  because  I  submit 
to  it  myself  without  attempting  to  defend  myself, 
and  I  am  proud  to  be  one  of  his  pupils.  But 
some  of  the  women  undoubtedly  go  too  far.  It 
leads  them  into  a  sort  of  idolatry,  of  fetichism. 
They  dispute  over  a  flower  that  he  has  touched, 
they  gather  up  the  ends  of  his  cigars,  and  those 
who  are  sufficiently  independent,  and  are  able  to 
do  so,  follow  him  from  city  to  city,  all  through 
the  year." 

"  And  does  not  that  exasperate  him  ?  " 

"  On  the  contrary,  he  would  be  very  unhappy 
without  the  atmosphere  of  adoration  which  sur- 


JUDITH   GAUTIER  IN   BRITTANY. 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  141 

rounds  him.  He  loves  the  incense  of  these 
excessive  flatteries.  He  feels  the  need  of  this 
mystical  kingdom,  and  in  order  to  hold  it  to- 
gether, he  distributes  his  favours,  very  simply, 
according  to  the  merits  of  the  recipients,  or  in 
the  order  of  his  own  preferences." 

"  But  how  is  he  able  to  maintain  order  and 
harmony  in  his  harem,  and  to  keep  down  jealousy 
and  rivalry  ?  " 

"  That  is  the  most  wonderful  thing  about  it 
all,"  said  Servais ;  "he  succeeds  in  keeping 
peace  amongst  all  his  votaries,  he  even  makes 
them  accept  and  respect  a  favourite.  When  you 
express  astonishment  at  an  abnegation  so  un- 
usual among  women,  he  makes  to  you  this  un- 
expected announcement,  c  They  love  themselves 


VII 

Wagner  had  telegraphed  from  Tribschen  to  the 
king,  to  tell  him  that  some  French  friends,  who 
had  arrived  in  Munich,  would  be  happy  to  see 
representations  of  Lohengrin,  Tanrihauser 
etc.,  while  they  waited  for  the  Rheingold. 
Lohengrin  had  already  been  announced.  But, 


142  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

further  than  that,  a  servant  in  blue  and  gold 
livery  brought  us,  each  morning,  admissions  to 
the  galerie  noble,  sometimes  for  the  Royal  Opera, 
sometimes  for  the  Theatre  de  la  Residence ;  it 
was  by  order  of  the  king  that  we  were  accorded 
this  favour,  and  we  had  the  great  pleasure,  alas  ! 
for  the  French  alone  a  rare  one,  of  being  present 
nearly  every  evening  at  productions  of  the 
tragedies  and  comedies  of  Shakespeare,  alternating 
with  operas  of  Wagner. 

In  its  relation  to  the  theatre,  the  love  which 
the  Bavarians  feel  for  reconstruction  and  imita- 
tion produces  the  best  of  results  :  the  plays  are 
very  carefully  mounted,  and  the  scenic  effects 
very  fine  and  exact.  We  had  the  pleasure  of 
seeing,  in  the  space  of  a  few  weeks,  Richard 
III.,  A  Winter's  Tale,  As  You  Like  It,  Twelfth 
Night,  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona,  Lohengrin, 
The  Flying  Dutchman,  Tannhduser,  and  The 
Master  singers. 

VIII 

I  was  very  glad  to  meet  Liszt  again  at  the 
soiree  given  for  Villiers  de  PIsle-Adam  by  the 
Countess  Muchanoff .  Very  soon  after  my  entrance 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  143 

I  recognized  that  he,  also,  was  impatient  to  speak 
to  me,  for  he  threw  me  a  questioning  look,  and  as 
soon  as  we  could  draw  a  little  away  from  the  others 
he  said  to  me  : — 

"  Well,  what  news  ?  " 

Then  I  told  him  how  my  letter,  repeating  his 
words,  had  caused  a  commotion  of  joy  at  Tribschen, 
had  given  them  a  blessed  release  from  harrowing 
cares,  and  the  consolation  of  knowing  that  the 
affection  of  a  heart  so  dear  was  not  lost.  From 
that  certainty  they  could  draw  strength  for  the 
struggle  to  come !  As  for  me,  simply  the  messenger, 
the  master  had  sent  me  his  blessing. 

Liszt,  his  eyes  shining  with  tears  quickly  dried, 
seized  my  hand  and  rapidly  whispered  to  me : 

"  Guard  well  the  secret  that  I  confide  to  you ; 
I  will  do  my  best  on  my  return  to  Italy,  to  stop 
a  few  hours  at  Lucerne  in  order  to  embrace  my 
daughter  and  my  grandchildren." 

And  then  he,  who  always  refused  to  play,  went  to 
the  piano,  lifted  the  cover  with  a  quick  movement, 
and  ran  his  masterful  fingers  over  the  keys  in  an 
impetuous,  thrilling  and  passionate  improvisation. 

The  ovation  which  this  called  forth  approached 
delirium,  but  he  hardly  noticed  it. 


i44  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

It  was  now  the  turn  of  Villiers  to  charm  the 
audience.  Well  curled,  his  Maltese  cross  in  the 
right  place  on  his  left  side,  he  looked  very  mag- 
nificent. Yet  he  appeared  to  me  a  little  nervous 
and  disturbed.  .  .  .  Was  it  possible  that  the  vast 
ornate  drawing-room  of  the  mansion  overwhelmed 
him,  and  that  this  gathering  of  noble,  well-dressed 
ladies,  of  high  functionaries,  of  artists,  forming 
a  half  circle  as  in  a  theatre,  and  staring  at  him  in 
silent  attention,  abashed  him  more  than  the 
Olympian  intimacy  of  Tribschen  ?  In  full  light, 
standing  at  the  end  of  the  grand  piano,  he  seemed 
to  hesitate,  he  did  not  speak.  But  at  last,  with 
a  proud  toss  of  his  head,  he  threw  back  his  waving 
hair  and  began  to  read  in  a  firm,  clear  voice. 

I  was  reassured ;  Villiers,  very  certain  of  him- 
self, was  taking  plenty  of  time  and  managing 
his  effects  ;  the  audience  was  interested,  a  flatter- 
ing murmur  followed  certain  passages,  they  ap- 
plauded ;  then  again,  the  respectful  silence  was 
renewed,  and  they  listened  intently. 

But,  alas !  What  is  happening  ?  Suddenly 
Villiers  is  silent,  he  drops  his  manuscript  and 
looks  at  his  audience  with  wide  open  eyes  filled 
with  fright.  With  an  hysterical  gesture  he  un- 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  145 

hooks  the  belt  of  his  trousers,  then  he  takes  off 
his  shoes  and  seats  himself  on  the  top  of  the 
piano.  Oh,  horror !  What  can  he  mean  ?  Is 
that  in  the  play  ?  A  mystification  ?  A  wager  ? 
In  any  case  it  is  in  very  bad  taste  !  There  is 
a  mocking  uproar  and  everyone  rises  ;  they  come 
to  me ;  they  question  me. 

What  can  I  say  ?  How  can  I  make  them 
understand  that  Villiers  believes  himself  in  danger 
of  death,  and  that  therefore  he  has  done  what 
he  thinks  is  best  for  himself,  irrespective  of 
propriety.  He  has  had,  without  doubt,  a  little 
nervous  spasm  of  the  heart ;  some  physician, 
chaffing  him,  perhaps,  once  told  him  that  if  any- 
thing of  the  kind  happened,  he  must  loosen  his 
clothing  quickly,  take  off  his  shoes  and  stockings, 
and  seat  himself  high  up  so  that  his  feet 
would  hang.  And  now  they  can  see  that  the 
invalid  has  conformed  to  this  order  in  every 
particular. 

Much  laughter  was  stifled  behind  fans.  They 
pretended  to  forget  the  incident. 

Villiers  had  fled,  bearing  his  shoes  with  him, 
while  our  little  group,  not  daring  to  follow  him  in 
beating  a  retreat,  remained  feeling  very  much 


i46  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

embarrassed,  and  experiencing  the  isolation  of  the 
vanquished. 

Franz  Servais  was  filled  with  consternation ; 
he  walked  about  feverishly,  his  hands  in  his 
pockets,  the  long  pale  wisps  of  his  hair  hanging 
and  almost  meeting  again  in  his  mouth,  which 
constantly  opened  to  give  vent  to  vehement 
recriminations. 

"  There  is  only  one  thing  that  can  save  the 
situation,"  cried  he.  "  There  is  only  one  excuse 
that  Villiers  can  make.  Death  !  Yes,  yes,  for 
the  honour  of  us  all  he  must  die  !  " 

IX 

We  had  taken  furnished  apartments  in  Maxi- 
milianstrasse,  a  remarkably  wide  street,  very  gay 
and  attractive  with  its  rows  of  fine  shops  and 
fascinating  shop-windows.  It  begins  in  the  heart 
of  Munich,  close  to  the  Royal  Theatre,  and,  ex- 
tending for  over  a  mile,  ends  at  the  Isar,  a  very 
impetuous  river,  running  madly  over  enormous 
stones,  which  appear  to  have  been  artifically 
cut.  These  stones,  by  their  sharp  angles,  form 
giant  steps  over  which  the  water  dashes  in  cascades. 
We  did  not  imagine  this  torrent  to  be  navigable, 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  147 

but  one  day  an  unexpected  sight  proved  to  us 
that  it  was  so. 

On  this  very  warm  day,  we  slowly  sauntered 
toward  the  Isar,  hoping  to  find  a  little  freshness 
in  the  gardens,  which  on  the  other  side  of  the 
river,  extend  the  whole  length  of  the  wide  banks. 
Having  stopped  in  the  middle  of  the  bridge,  above 
a  dizzying  tumult  of  waters,  we  suddenly  beheld 
in  the  distance  four  or  five  rafts  loaded  with  men, 
which  seemed  to  be  at  the  mercy  of  the  current, 
but  were,  on  the  contrary,  very  skilfully  guided  as 
they  swept  along. 

"  Savages  !    Pirogues  !  "  cried  Villiers. 

And  in  fact  it  was  a  spectacle  that  suggested 
only  adventurous  savages  shooting  the  rapids 
in  canoes  made  from  the  bark  of  trees. 

The  shallowness  of  the  water  as  it  ran  over  the 
rocks  added  to  the  danger  of  being  drowned  that 
of  being  crushed  to  pieces  at  the  slightest  error 
in  the  difficult  manreuvring.  We  had  scarcely 
time  to  tremble  for  these  men,  or  even  to  dis- 
tinguish them,  standing  on  the  rafts  and  leaning 
on  their  short  poles,  before  they  had  passed  under 
the  bridge,  and  flying  from  the  other  side  had 
disappeared  from  sight. 


148  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

"  The  true  course  to  the  Abyss  !  "  cried  Villiers. 
"  Where  do  these  beings  come  from  ?  "  I  de- 
manded, "  and  whither  do  they  go  ?  " 

"  Ah,  it  is  better  not  to  know.  It  is  never 
good  to  investigate  too  deeply.  We  have  seen  a 
vision,  have  we  not,  of  ferocious  warriors  descend- 
ing the  Ogowe,  in  the  pursuit  of  a  rival  tribe : 
why  should  we  try  to  convince  ourselves  that  we 
have  only  seen  worthy  peasants  going  to  the 
nearest  market,  for  the  very  prosaic  purpose  of 
selling  some  vulgar  product  of  the  soil  ?  " 

"  In  any  case  they  are  brave  as  well  as  worthy 
peasants  !  " 

But  Villiers  was  no  longer  listening :  his 
imagination  had  followed  the  warriors  of  the 
Ogowe  and  was  wandering  far  away,  and  the 
part  of  the  man  that  was  left  with  us  expressed 
itself  in  a  confused  monotone,  mingled  with 
laughter.  He  toyed  with  his  ideas,  as  one  amuses 
oneself  at  the  seashore,  by  letting  the  sand  fall 
in  cascades  between  the  fingers.  But  I  well 
knew  that  there  were  some  precious  stones  in  the 
sand  that  Villiers  sifted,  and  I  lay  in  wait  for 
these. 

When  we  were  finally  seated  on  grassy  hillocks 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  149 

in  the  shadows  of  the  great  trees  of  the 
English  Garden,  where  we  could  look  out  over 
the  fresh  meadows  starred  with  saffron  blossoms 
like  thousands  of  goblin  fires,  and  the  nearer 
willows,  of  a  vivid  green,  with  long  strands 
trailing  in  the  Isar,  then  at  last  I  began  to  dis- 
tinguish some  light  amid  the  obscurities  of  the 
discourse  of  Villiers. 

"  I  have  a  glimpse  of  a  misty  sea,  a  dreamlike 
twilight  around  an  unknown  isle,  then,  in  a 
luminous  eddy,  a  great  sphinx  emerges  from  the 
waves  and  swims  toward  the  bank.  Across  her 
back  a  violet  banner  is  floating,  and  on  the  banner 
in  letters  of  gold  gleams  the  word  :  Inviolata  !  " 

"  And  that  is  all,"  said  Villiers ;  "  it  will  never 
connect  itself  with  anything  and  will  never  be 
explained.  The  intense  impression,  the  charm, 
the  mystery,  the  disquieting  strangeness,  are  all 
in  the  picture  itself,  seen  through  an  opening  in 
the  clouds,  and  never  more  to  be  forgotten." 

"  And  there  are  some  poems,"  added  he,  "  which 
should  have  but  a  single  stanza :  this  one  for 
example : — 

'  La  lourde  cle"  du  reve  a  ma  ceinture  sonne  .  .  .' l 
1  Forever  clanks  at  my  girdle  the  heavy  key  of  the  dream. 


150  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

Isn't  that  complete  enough  ?  Isn't  that 
magnificent  ?  What  could  one  add  to  that  ? 
In  my  foolishness  and  desire  to  make  a  poem  I 
once  tried — impossible  !  There  is  nothing  to  add. 
Nor  is  there  to  this  other  line  : — 

'  O  pasteur,  Hesperus  a  1'occident  s'allume  ! ' l 

The  melancholy  of  the  hour,  the  clear  evening, 
the  shining  star  and  the  pastoral  life,  it  is  all 
there ;  why  seek  for  anything  further  ?  " 

"  It  is  true,"  said  I,  "  that  that  kind  of  stanza, 
the  single  stanza  in  which  a  whole  poem  seems 
to  be  condensed,  is  sufficient  unto  itself  and 
disdains  rhyme.  I  have  composed  one  myself, 
very  absurd,  but  who  could  find  a  rhyme  to  add 
to  it? 

'  Je  suis  le  nautonier  des  oceans  lunaires  ! '  2 

The  Italian  poet,  Gualdo,  has  quoted  this  line 
somewhere  as  an  epigraph,  in  order  to  silence 
his  contemporaries  and  make  them  search  for 
its  origin." 

Villiers  suddenly  began  to  rummage  in  his 
pockets,  and,  after  an  agitated  search,  he  drew 
out  some  very  crumpled  sheets  of  paper. 

1  O  shepherd,  Vesper  kiudles  at  the  west  ! 

2  I  am  the  boatman  of  the  lunar  seas  ! 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  151 

"  Let  us  be  serious  again,"  said  he,  "  let  us 
be  practical  and  prosaic.  Here  is  my  article  upon 
the  exposition  :  it  is  finished." 

"  What !  "  cried  I,  "  have  you  not  sent  it  yet  ? 
It  will  be  too  late  :  the  opening  of  the  exposition 
is  an  old  story  now :  they  will  not  wish  to  publish  it." 

"  Oh,  if  you  could  see  with  what  fine  little 
touches  it  has  all  been  refreshed !  In  the  first 
place,  I  have  changed  the  title,  which  is  now : 
4  Munich  during  the  Exposition.'  Really  the 
article  isn't  bad,  listen  to  this :  " 

And  he  read  : — 

"  The  halls  of  the  Crystal  Palace  are  filled  to 
overflowing,  the  French  envoys  are  rudely  bumped 
by  the  enormous  boxes.  At  the  exposition  the 
paintings  reach  to  the  very  cornices,  and  there  is 
even  talk  of  hanging  some  delayed  canvases  in  the 
restaurant  opposite,  notably  the  Casseur  de  Pierres 
of  Courbet.  We  must  add,  however,  that  Courbet 
has  also  sent  here  a  magnificent  landscape,  in  which 
the  water  is  so  natural  and  so  deep  that  it  makes 
one  dream  dreams.  That,  and  the  Fauconnier 
of  Couture,  are  the  pictures  that  we  love  best  in 
the  French  salon,  in  spite  of  our  lack  of  sympathy 
for  the  realistic  school. 


152  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

"  The  Germans,  when  they  see  Courbet's 
paintings,  say,  '  A  painter  as  good  as  he  is  rough, 
he  sees  like  a  peasant  and  paints  like  a  professor, 
which  is  saying  a  great  deal,'  they  add  laughing." 

"  Here  I  interpolate  a  sentence,"  said  Villiers. 
"  '  It  is  late  to  speak  of  the  exposition,'  and  then 
I  go  on  to  speak  of  it  all  the  same  : 

"  One  must  also  mention  some  exquisite 
grisailles  of  Ramberg,  the  Saint  Joseph  of 
Gysis,  portraits  by  Lenbach,  landscapes  by 
Zwangauer,  the  German  Daubigny,  some  academic 
sepias  of  Kaulbach  on  subjects  drawn  from 
Wagner's  operas,  and  The  woman  in  the  velvet 
Gown,  of  Herr  Canon,  a  young  Austrian  painter 
of  incomparable  talent.  It  is  thought  that  The 
Banquet  of  Phaton  of  Herr  Anselm  Feuerbach, 
will  have  the  medal  of  honour.  It  is  great  work, 
truly,  and  since  Peter  Cornelius,  nothing  better 
has  been  done  in  Germany.  So  art  is  in  a 
flourishing  condition. 

"  I  am  going  to  slip  a  new  sentence  in  there," 
said  Villiers.  "  '  Let  us  now  leave  the  exposition, 
with  its  already  old  news,  and  take  a  promenade 
through  the  city.' ' 

And  he  continued  his  reading : — 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  153 

'  We  love  Munich,  but  not  everyone  is  of  our 
opinion.  It  is  true  that  Munich  is  rather  lacking  in 
police  officers,  that  Les  Pompiers  de  Nanterre  is  not 
sung  here,  that  we  notice  an  absence  of  assaults, 
swindlings  and  murders  that  is  truly  desolating 
for  the  future  of  this  capital.  On  the  other  hand, 
we  have  seen  magnificent  theatres  where  Goethe 
is  played,  we  have  visited  museums  which  contain 
treasures  of  art  and  of  genius,  we  have  seen  monu- 
ments in  the  purest  Greek  style,  great  gardens 
like  the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  immense  cafes  where 
one  is  served  by  pretty  girls  whom  no  one  dreams 
of  chaffing  beyond  reason,  except,  perhaps,  some 
passing  wags  who  have  only  their  trouble  for 
their  pains. 

"  We  have  climbed  up  inside  c  The  Bavaria,' 
the  enormous  bronze  statue  which  towers  above 
the  city,  and  through  the  eyes  of  which  six  people 
are  able  to  see  before  them  the  sweep  of  land 
extending  to  the  mountains  of  the  Tyrol.  We 
have  visited  the  hall  of  the  portraits  of  beautiful 
women  of  the  country,  where  one  imagines  oneself 
in  a  sort  of  Montyon  Gallery  of  love,  and  where, 
if  her  nose  be  of  an  heroic  cast,  the  daughter  of 
a  shoemaker  may  find  herself  side  by  side  with 


154  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

the  daughter  of  a  princess.  The  king,  Ludwig  I., 
who  lodged  in  his  palace  this  ingenuous  display 
of  Germanic  beauty,  loved  all  pretty  women; 
and  the  good  Bavarians  recount  that  at  his  death 
the  following  scene  must  have  taken  place  at 
the  gate  of  Heaven  : 
"Rap!  Rap!" 

"  '  Who  is  there  ?  '  asks  St  Peter.' 
"  '  It  is  I,  Ludwig,  King  of  Bavaria  ! ' 
" 4  One  moment,'  replies   the  blessed   Apostle. 
Then  he  shouts  in  a  voice  of  thunder :    '  Get  the 
eleven  thousand  virgins  out  of  the  way  quick ! 
Here  is  Ludwig  of  Bavaria  just  arriving  ! ' 

"  But  we  must  not  laugh  too  much  about 
that  king  who,  in  the  place  of  military  glory,  has 
bequeathed  to  his  people  schools  where  the  children 
are  taught  to  develop  a  lofty  and  noble  character." 

"  That  is  very  good,  Villiers,  but  you  must 
not  read  any  more,"  cried  I,  interrupting  him. 
44  Let  us  hurry  to  the  post,  there  is  still  time 
before  the  evening  collection.  Let  us  send  the 
article  at  once,  the  more  you  allow  the  time  to 
pass,  the  less  chance  there  is  of  its  being  published, 
for,  in  spite  of  your  conciliatory  sentence,  present 
time  does  not  wait." 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  155 

X 

After  the  tiresome  incident  of  the  Hotel  des 
Quatre  Saisons,  when  Villiers  had  removed  his 
shoes  before  a  noble  audience,  we  sulked  at  the 
social  world,  refused  its  invitations,  and  when 
there  was  nothing  very  interesting  at  the  theatres, 
we  loved  to  gather  in  the  evening  at  the  house  of 
Franz  Servais. 

Servais,  who  made  very  frequent  visits  to 
Munich,  had  there  a  large  apartment  on  the 
ground  floor,  in  a  quarter  a  little  away  from  the 
centre.  He  possessed  a  piano,  around  which  we 
passed  many  delightful  hours,  thanks  to  the 
unwearied  kindness  of  Hans  Richter,  who  played 
us  fragments  from  the  Rheingold  to  initiate 
us  a  little  into  the  work  which  we  were  so  soon 
to  have  the  happiness  of  seeing  represented. 

Servais  had  not  held  any  resentment  against 
Villiers ;  he  quite  understood  now  that  he  had 
done  what  he  believed  was  necessary,  and  they 
had  become  good  companions  and  were  on  the 
best  of  terms. 

Sometimes  we  amused  ourselves  by  playing 
charades.  It  was  undoubtedly  I  who  proposed 


156  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

this  kind  of  diversion,  of  which  I  was  very  fond. 
It  was  a  pastime  that  had  pleased  my  father, 
and  with  which,  at  Neuilly,  he  had  often  enlivened 
the  Thursdays  at  home  of  the  Rue  de  Longchamp. 

From  the  first,  Servais  showed  a  remarkable 
aptitude.  He  was  always  ready  with  something 
opportune,  something  unexpected,  and  he  was 
never  deterred  by  the  fear  of  producing  comical 
effects.  Villiers,  great  actor  as  he  was !  de- 
clared himself  to  be  incapable  of  improvising 
two  sentences,  so  reserved  for  himself  the  honour 
of  guessing  the  word  of  the  charade.  Schure 
requested  to  be  allowed  to  hold  the  office  of  the 
public — a  rather  abstracted  public — while  Scheffer 
and  his  dog,  which  never  left  him,  were  both  very 
attentive.  As  for  Richter,  he  consented  to  appear 
in  the  role  of  a  mute  personage,  so  mute  even, 
that  upon  one  occasion  when  representing  a  sick 
man,  he  allowed  the  brilliantine  to  be  poured  into 
his  mouth  without  a  protest,  in  order  not  to 
spoil  the  effect. 

How  did  the  lady  of  many  names,  who  ought 
to  have  had  something  else  to  do,  take  it  into  her 
head  to  announce  to  the  whole  city  the  way  in 
which  we  passed  our  evenings  ?  It  always  seemed 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  157 

to  be  known.  One  evening  when  we  had  had 
supper  at  the  Cafe  Maximilian,  just  as  we  started 
to  go  out,  we  saw  several  carriages  roll  up  and 
stop  one  after  the  other  in  front  of  the  Cafe. 
Before  we  had  time  to  think  about  it,  the  Countess 
Muchanoff  alighted  from  the  first  coach  and 
entered  hastily. 

"  At  last  you  are  found !  "  cried  she,  "  you 
have  become  very  elusive,  you  are  never  at  your 
apartments,  you  never  come  when  one  invites 
you,  so  we  decided  to  look  for  you  everywhere. 
For  the  last  hour  we  have  been  going  to  all  the 
beer-gardens,  all  the  restaurants  in  Munich ;  this 
is  the  very  last  one." 

We  were  a  little  disconcerted.  Villiers  had 
made  a  show  of  running  away,  but  the  retreat 
was  cut  off,  the  doors  of  the  other  carriages  opened, 
ladies  and  gentlemen,  who  figured  in  the  elegant 
society  which  had  been  present  at  the  disastrous 
fete,  spread  out  over  the  much  be-glorified  side- 
walk. 

"  It  is  very  wrong  of  you  to  be  so  exclusive," 
continued  Madame  Muchanoff,  "  to  organise 
charming  evening  parties,  without  letting  anyone 
know !  Now  that  we  have  discovered  you,  we 


158  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

shall  take  you  all  away  with  us.  Come,  come, 
you  must  do  some  charades,  we  are  all  so  curious 
to  see  that !  " 

"  Charades  !  " 

How  did  they  know  ?  .  .  .  and  did  they  really 
imagine  that  we  would  proceed  to  play  at  charades 
in  the  city  ? 

"  But,  dear  lady "  said  I  to  her, "  it  was  only 

among  ourselves  and  as  one  would  play  at 
children's  games,  that  we  amused  ourselves  so ; 
we  should  lose  all  our  spontaneity  if  we  under- 
took to  be  serious  about  it." 

They  begged  and  they  insisted,  but  we  remained 
firm  and  unmoved.  We  asserted  that  we  con- 
sidered them  all  as  our  guests,  that  we  ought  to 
receive  and  entertain  them,  and  that  they  must 
excuse  us  for  not  being  able  to  do  it  in  a  Cafe. 

At  this  moment  someone  opened  for  us  an 
empty  room,  turned  on  the  lights,  and  all  these 
gay  people,  very  much  pleased,  went  in  there, 
followed  by  the  surprised  and  admiring  gaze  of 
the  public.  The  ladies  loosened  then*  evening 
wraps  and  revealed  their  bare  shoulders  and  light 
costumes.  The  men  were  in  evening  coats. 

Many  of  the  persons  present  we  hardly  knew, 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  159 

and  at  first  we  were  a  little  ill  at  ease.  But 
someone  ordered  tea,  someone  else  champagne, 
the  women  lighted  their  Russian  cigarettes, 
as  slender  as  toothpicks,  and  the  momentary 
awkwardness  vanished.  Count  von  Berghem,  a 
man  with  very  fascinating  manners,  of  whom 
I  know  nothing  more  than  his  name,  entered 
into  a  discussion  with  Schure  and  Servais  upon 
the  analogies  which  exist  between  the  Gods  of 
Edda,  from  whom  Wagner  has  taken  his  heroes, 
and  the  Gods  of  Olympus,  between  Wotan  and 
Jupiter. 

The  Countess  Muchanoff  seemed  determined  to 
reconquer  Villiers,  who  escaped  from  her  as  long 
as  possible,  but  she  made  such  gracious  advances 
to  him,  she  expressed  such  a  lively  admiration 
for  his  talent  and  his  mind,  that  he  regained  all 
his  assurance. 

In  fact,  this  rather  unusual  overture,  this 
unexpected  invasion,  became  a  very  charming 
and  cordial  event.  The  conclusion  of  the  episode 
revealed  Villiers'  character :  he  was  no  longer 
crestfallen  at  having  seated  himself  upon  the 
piano  and  allowed  his  feet  to  dangle,  he  only 
regretted  that  he  did  not  have  his  Maltese  cross 


160  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

in  his  pocket  on  this  occasion,  so  that  he  could 
pin  it  to  his  waistcoat. 

XI 

Our  friends  wished  very  much  to  show  us  the 
model  of  the  Semper  theatre  that  Wagner  had 
charged  us  to  go  and  see,  and  which  was  very 
seldom  shown.  A  sort  of  basement  hi  the  Royal 
Residence  served  as  a  place  of  concealment  for 
this  very  pretty  miniature  theatre — modelled  in 
plaster,  and  standing  upon  a  large  table  of  white 
wood.  Greatly  interested,  we  circled  about  the 
little  edifice,  the  plan  of  which  is  so  rational  and 
so  well  adapted  to  its  purpose — and  it  saddened 
us  to  think  of  Wagner's  frustrated  hopes  and 
bitter  disappointment  at  having  to  give  up  his 
plan  for  constructing  a  model  theatre. 

Who  could  have  foretold  that,  seven  years  later, 
thanks  to  the  unflagging  faith  of  the  royal  friend, 
we  should  see  it  rise  up,  triumphant,  upon  the 
hill  at  Bayreuth  ? 

XII 

Richard  Wagner,  while  in  Munich,  had  been  for 
a  long  time  the  neighbour  of  Count  Friedrich  von 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  161 

Schack,  and  there  was  a  warm  friendship  between 
them.  I  was  commissioned  to  remind  Richter 
not  to  forget  to  invite  the  Count  to  the  dress 
rehearsal  of  the  Rheingold,  and  I  had  promised, 
also,  to  pay  a  visit  to  his  famous  collection  of 
paintings. 

This  Count  von  Schack  was  a  writer  of 
some  celebrity — his  "  History  of  Literature  and 
Dramatic  Art  in  Spain  "  Wagner  esteemed  very 
highly ;  he  knew  Arabic,  Persian,  Sanscrit,  and 
had  translated,  among  others,  the  "  Book  of  the 
Kings  "  of  Ferdousi.  At  one  time  the  Master 
contemplated  a  musical  drama  founded  upon 
one  of  the  episodes  of  this  work  ;  he  was  also 
tempted  by  a  legend  contained  in  "  The  Voices 
of  the  Ganges,"  a  collection  also  translated  by 
Schack. 

As  to  his  museum,  the  public  reviled  more  than 
they  praised  it ;  they  even  went  so  far  as  to  call 
it  the  "  Krausteum  "  (so  true  it  is  that  philanthropy 
engenders  ingratitude) — because  of  the  things 
gathered  in  by  this  millionaire,  who  believed 
himself  to  be  doing  right  in  ordering  pictures 
from  poor  artists  from  whom  no  one  else  had  ever 
ordered  ! 


i62  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  collection  included 
not  a  few  horrors  and  some  very  beautiful  works. 

The  copies  of  the  great  masters,  from  Lenbach's 
brush,  for  example,  seemed  to  me  very  remarkable. 
They  recalled  to  me  a  commission  for  this  artist, 
with  which  Cosima  had  charged  me,  and  I  decided 
to  go  at  once  to  his  studio,  which  was  near  the 
Schack  gallery. 

Lenbach  had  a  delicate,  rather  crafty  face, 
the  sharp  look  of  the  hunter,  a  short,  red-brown 
beard  and  a  one-sided  smile. 

He  showed  me  some  delicious  portraits  of 
children  which  he  was  just  finishing,  he  made  me 
admire  some  authentic  and  very  beautiful  canvases 
of  the  old  masters  which  were  in  his  possession, 
among  others,  a  sketch  by  Rubens  and  a  splendid 
portrait  of  Francis  I.  by  Titian. 

This  is  what  I  had  come  to  say  to  him  :— 

"  It  is  absolutely  necessary  that  you  should 
paint  the  portrait  of  Richard  Wagner,  it  is  a 
disgrace  to  Germany  that  no  artist  of  worth  has 
yet  attempted  it.  Madame  Cosima  sends  the 
order  to  you,  and  leaves  you  free  to  fix  your  own 
price." 

"  I  will  undertake  the  work  with  the  greatest 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  163 

pleasure,"  said  Lenbach,  "  and  I  wish  no  further 
payment  than  the  honour  of  having  done  it  if 
I  should  succeed." 

"  That  is  indeed  worthy  of  you,"  said  I,  holding 
out  my  hand  to  him,  "  but  Cosima  will  doubtless 
feel  differently,  you  must  discuss  that  question 
with  her." 

"  There  is  another  portrait  which  I  should  also 
very  much  love  to  do,  and  it  is  yours." 

"  My  portrait !     You  could  find  time  for  that  ?  " 

"  I  could  do  it  at  once,  I  beg  you  to  allow  me 
to  do  it." 

0,  careless  youth  !  Many  times  Lenbach  spoke 
again  of  this  portrait,  but  the  idea  of  posing 
wearied  me  and  I  evaded  the  appointments. 
The  poignant  regret  that  I  now  feel  is  surely  a 
sufficient  punishment. 

XIII 

The  rehearsals  of  the  Rheingold  with  orchestra 
had  commenced  !  Wagner  had  made  it  a  point 
that  his  friends  should  be  allowed  to  be  present 
at  the  last  one  before  the  dress  rehearsal.  This 
prospect  filled  us  with  joy. 

Richter,  however,  seemed  to  be  anxious.     Could 


164  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

anything  be  going  wrong  ?  The  singers  were  of 
the  first  rank  and  full  of  enthusiasm,  the  members 
of  the  orchestra  were,  without  a  doubt,  the  best 
in  the  world, — but  there  was  also  the  management 
of  the  theatre,  which  laboured  secretly  at  the 
staging  of  the  work.  What  would  this  staging 
be  like,  without  the  suggestions  of  the  Master, 
carried  on  by  a  management  that  was  hostile 
to  him,  and  looking  out  only  for  itself  ?  In- 
credible as  it  may  appear,  it  is  true  that  the  men 
who  directed  and  managed  the  theatre,  to  which 
Wagner  brought  glory  and  profit,  were  hostile 
to  Wagner. 

And  yet  the  manager,  Perfall,  had  been 
appointed  solely  at  the  recommendation  of  the 
Master,  whom  he  had  solicited  with  a  servile 
insistence,  swearing  that  he  would  have  no  other 
object  except  to  devote  himself  to  him  and  to 
his  interests,  with  all  his  heart  and  all  his  ability. 
As  soon  as  he  was  appointed,  with  an  unparalleled 
treachery,  he  had  betrayed  the  one  to  whom  he 
owed  his  position,  and  hindered  in  a  thousand 
ways  the  production  of  the  Meister singer. 

Nor  could  one  depend  very  much  more  upon 
the  Court  Counsellor,  Lorenz  von  Dufflipp,  in- 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  165 

termediary  between  the  Palace  and  the  theatre, 
who,  in  spite  of  his  obsequious  flatteries  of  Wagner, 
was  secretly  adverse  to  him,  and  hand  in  hand 
with  the  management. 

Fruitless  reprisals  indeed,  but  we  called  him 
"  Tartufflipp," l  and  his  title  of  "  Hofrath  "  changed 
itself  for  us  into  "  Chaussetrappe." 2 

This  counsellor,  secretary  to  the  king,  had 
replaced  Pfistmeister,  the  messenger  who  had 
carried  the  good  news  to  Wagner  from  Ludwig  II., 
and  who  was  now,  also,  one  of  his  most  implacable 
adversaries. 

>4  Tartufflipp,"  with  his  prepossessing  face,  was 
badly  built,  high-shouldered,  even  hump-backed 
— and  the  report  ran  that  his  hump  was  greatly 
increased  by  the  Wagnerian  theatre  project, 
which  having  juggled  away,  he  had  concealed 
there. 

What  could  result  from  all  these  artful  under- 
hand dealings  ?  Already  they  had  written  me 
from  Tribschen  that  the  costumes,  according  to 
the  sketches  sent  to  the  Master,  were  hideous 
and  would  have  to  be  re-made.  Someone  had 
conceived  the  idea  of  building  up  great  scaffolds 

1  Hypocrite.  2  Trap-door. 


166  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

of  gold  upon  the  heads  of  the  Gods,  without 
remembering  that  in  this  opera,  where  gold  is 
discovered,  it  ought  not  to  appear  until  after 
Alberich  had  plundered  and  forged  it.  Would 
attention  be  paid  to  the  author's  suggestions  ?  In 
that  which  pertained  to  the  staging  was  there  not  all 
to  be  feared,  considering  that  the  only  beings  upon 
whom  it  depended  were  spiteful  and  incapable  ? 

Decidedly,  Richter's  anxiety  explained  itself 
and  extended  to  us. 

XIV 

At  last  the  time  had  come  !  The  last  rehearsal 
but  one  was  about  to  begin.  How  mysterious 
and  imposing  was  the  empty  and  dimly  lighted 
theatre !  It  appeared  immense,  almost  like  a 
cathedral,  the  stage  all  bathed  in  a  blue  haze, 
produced,  no  doubt,  by  some  reflection  of  the 
outside  daylight,  for  it  was  then  three  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon. 

Only  a  very  few  had  been  accorded  the  favour 
of  being  present  at  this  rehearsal,  which  was 
without  stage  scenery  or  costumes. 

Liszt  was  there.  His  tall  dark  silhouette  loomed 
up  from  the  orchestra  stalls.  I  hastened  to 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  167 

salute  the  Great  Man,  now  become  the  friend, 
and  I  asked  if  he  would  permit  me  to  remain  near 
him  during  the  rehearsal,  that  he  might  explain 
to  me  some  things  in  the  opera,  the  score  of  which 
I  did  not  sufficiently  know.  The  permission  was 
very  graciously  accorded. 

Now  the  musicians  began  to  arrive  and  to  take 
their  places  !  How  solemn  and  almost  religious 
was  the  emotion  we  felt ! 

"  For  very  many  years  I  have  waited  for  this 
moment,"  said  Liszt,  "  and  I  have  feared,  indeed, 
that  it  would  never  come.  ...  If  you  but  knew 
the  miseries,  the  wrecked  and  perished  hopes 
despite  which  this  work  has  germed  and  flowered  ! 
I  have  seen  it  all  and  I  have  suffered  too  because 
of  it.  I  do  not  know  how  Wagner  has  been  able 
to  preserve  his  divine  inspiration  intact.  He 
seems  to  me  like  a  traveller  who  bore  a  cup  full 
of  water  through  the  midst  of  a  whirlwind  without 
being  forced  to  spill  a  single  drop.  But  even  in 
harbour,  you  see,  he  finds  no  shelter.  .  .  .  During 
his  exile  he  was  for  many  years  the  only  German 
who  had  not  heard  Lohengrin.  To  -  day,  the 
tones  of  his  great  orchestra  revealing  his  new 
work  to  the  world,  will  sound  for  the  first  time 


i68  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

and  he  will  not  hear  them.  Ah,  what  a  ransom 
ought  to  be  paid  to  genius  !  " 

Now  came  Richter,  pale  and  grave,  and  mounted 
to  his  desk. 

We  were  hardly  a  dozen  listeners  in  the  dark 
audience  hall.  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  blond, 
almost  white  locks  of  Servais,  and  I  divined  the 
form  of  Edouard  Schure  beside  him.  I  also  saw 
a  shadow,  climbing  over  the  orchestra  chairs  : 
it  was  Villiers  hastening  to  seat  himself  farther 
back,  in  order  to  be  quite  alone,  quite  undistracted. 

They  drew  the  curtain  before  the  stage.  Richter 
gave  two  or  three  quick  blows  on  the  desk,  then 
with  a  serious  and  proud  gesture  raised  his  baton. 

And  now  a  deep,  muffled  tone  rises  from  the 
orchestra,  it  vibrates  almost  imperceptibly  in  the 
lowest  depths  of  the  scale,  indistinct,  without 
form,  it  trembles  in  a  limpid  motion,  then  seems 
to  dilate,  to  spread  out,  a  slow  sweet  gliding 
movement  floats  up  and  loses  itself,  soon  another 
ripples  up  along  the  same  path  and  floats  away, 
as  one  wave  follows  another. 

Very  soon  these  musical  waves  swell  out  and 
follow  each  other  continuously  upward ;  from 
above  spheres  of  light  seem  to  fall,  spreading  and 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  169 

diffusing  like  drops  of  milk  in  clear  water.  The 
curtain  is  drawn  to  reveal  mysterious  abysses 
seen  through  the  blue  transparency  of  the  Rhine. 
On  the  stage  there  is  nothing  but  a  confused 
shadow,  but  how  clearly  the  imagination  inspired 
by  the  music,  evokes  the  picture !  Better,  per- 
haps, than  could  the  scenery  itself. 

Now  a  gentle  undulation  sways  the  tranquil 
water  and  suddenly  a  crystal  voice  resounds 
through  the  crystal  fluid,  a  nymph  glides  from 
the  heights  and  swims  below,  stirring  the  water 
to  new  motion.  The  words  of  her  song  form 
sliding  syllables  : 

Weia  !  Waga  !  Woge,  du  Welle, 
Walle  zur  Wiege  !  Wagala  Wei'a 
Wallala  Weiala  Weia  ! 

And  she  sways  about  the  reef,  at  the  summit  of 
which  dimly  gleams  the  vein  of  gold  ;  then  another 
daughter  of  the  Rhine  plunges  from  the  heights 
and  joyously  pursues  her  flying  sister.  But  the 
voice  of  a  third  undine  chides  them  both  as  she, 

laughing,  sings  : 

Heila  Weia ! 

Wildes  Geschwister  ! 

Des  Goldes  Schlaf 

Hiitet  ihr  schlecht ; 

Besser  bewacht 

Des  schlummernden  Bett 

Sonst  biisst  ihr  beide  das  Spiel ! 


170  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

Then  she  in  her  turn  dives  below,  and  these 
gracious  dwellers  of  the  Rhine  swim  and  frolic, 
upborne  by  the  harmonious  waves  of  music, 
around  the  prophetic  rock  where  sleeps  the  im- 
prisoned gold,  untouched  and  virgin  still. 

On  this  occasion  the  Rhine  maidens  are  standing 
quietly  upon  the  platform  in  walking  costumes 
and  straw  hats,  but  they  can  hardly  be  seen  in 
the  obscurity  and,  without  interfering  with  our 
imaginings  they  lend  their  fresh  and  limpid  voices 
to  the  forms  the  poet  has  created. 

Now  comes  a  heavy  and  jarring  rhythm,  and 
from  the  most  obscure  depths  of  the  river,  slowly 
emerges  a  strange  dwarf,  with  white  hair  and 
long  white  beard  braided  into  one  strand.  He 
climbs  along  the  slippery  rocks.  The  music 
expresses  his  struggles,  as  he  complains  of  the 
painful  ascent,  alliterating  his  words  : 

Garstig  glatter 
Glitschriger  Glimmer ! 
Wie  gleit  ich  aus ! 

His  eager  look  follows  the  undines  in  their  charming 
play,  and,  unable  to  reach  them,  he  calls  to  them  : 

He,  He !  Ihr  Nicker  ! 
Wie  seid  ihr  niedlich 
Neidliches  Volk  ! 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  171 

Aus  Nibelheim's  Nacht 
Naht'  ich  euch  gern, 
Neigtet  ihr  euch  zu  mir. 

The  Rhine  maidens,  frightened,  cluster  about  the 
rock  : 

"  Hiitet  das  Gold  ! 
Vater  warnte 
Von  solchem  Feind." 

"  What  dost  thou  seek,  thou  who  comest  up 
from  below  ?  " 

"  Wie  scheint  im  Schimmer 
Ihr  hell  und  schbn 
Wie  gern  umschlange 
Der  schlanken  eine  mein  Arm 
Schliipfte  hold  sie  herab !  " 

"  Nun  lach  ich  der  Furcht 
Der  Feind  ist  verliebt." 

And  the  frolicsome  undines  dive  from  the  rocks, 
pursuing,  enticing,  tempting  the  ardent  dwarf, 
who,  in  a  passionate  fury,  leaps  from  rock  to  rock, 
trying  to  catch  one  or  another.  But  the  elusive 
maidens  always  evade  him,  slipping  away,  and 
as  he  falls  back,  breathless  and  angry,  the  clear 
notes  of  their  mocking  laughter  float  back  to 
him. 

But  to-day,  in  the  pleasure  of  reviving  these 
memories,   I   must   not   fall    into    the    error    of 


WAGNER  AT  HOME 

describing  the  Rheingold.  When  I  first  heard 
it  in  Munich  in  the  solemn  stillness  of  the  dark 
theatre,  it  was  like  the  virgin  metal  gleaming 
in  the  sunlight  at  the  summit  of  the  rock,  for  the 
first  time  revealed  to  the  world,  while  now,  like 
gold  which  has  passed  through  the  mint,  it  is 
known  to  all. 

This  first  part  of  the  Tetralogy,  which  is  the 
prologue,  was  not  divided  into  acts.  Its  four 
tableaux  were  given  without  interruption.  The 
scenes  were  shifted  in  full  view  of  the  audience 
to  the  accompaniment  of  the  orchestra.  The 
performance  lasted  for  more  than  two  hours, 
and  yet,  even  at  this  first  hearing  when  all  the 
faculties  of  attention  were  taxed  to  the  utmost, 
one  did  not  experience  any  fatigue ;  the  archi- 
tectural outline  of  the  drama  was  so  simple  and 
clear  cut,  the  music  evoked  with  so  much  certainty 
the  different  phases,  or  so  to  speak,  the  elementaries 
of  the  work,  and  individualized  them  in  themes 
and  rhythms  of  such  extraordinary  beauty. 

Only  one  passage  seemed  to  me  difficult  to 
understand,  the  one  where  Wotan,  in  the  face  of 
the  treasure  forged  by  the  Nibelungen  which  he 
has  just  ravished  from  them,  is,  according  to  the 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  173 

text,  "  struck  by  a  high  thought."  At  this 
moment  is  heard  for  the  first  and  only  time,  the 
"  Leit-motif "  of  the  sword,  that  sword  called 
"  Nothung  "  which  is  to  play  such  an  important 
role  in  the  following  works,  but  which,  when  the 
theme  enters  which  symbolises  it,  is  not  designated 
by  any  phrase  or  gesture.  Liszt,  whom  I  ques- 
tioned about  it,  agreed  with  me  that  here  was 
an  obscurity,  and  that  Wagner  would  have  noticed 
it  if  he  had  been  present  at  the  rehearsals.  Later, 
I  spoke  to  the  Master  himself  with  regard  to  this 
point,  and  he  remarked  that  the  observation  was 
a  very  just  one,  and  that  he  would  take  advantage 
of  it.  After  that,  a  sword  was  added  to  the 
treasure  of  the  Nibelungen ;  Wotan  discovered 
and  brandished  it  at  the  moment  when  the  theme 
was  introduced. 

We  were  all  carried  away  by  enthusiasm  when 
the  Gods,  walking  across  the  valley  on  the  rainbow, 
entered  Walhalla  and  the  curtain  fell.  Richter, 
flushed  with  emotion,  was  surrounded,  acclaimed. 
Liszt  embraced  and  complimented  him  warmly. 
The  singers  were  also  praised,  and  the  musicians 
of  the  orchestra  who  had  so  admirably  fulfilled 
their  glorious  task. 


i74  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

After  having  escorted  Liszt  to  his  carriage, 
still  filled  with  elation  that  was  not  to  be  calmed 
we  set  out,  all  together,  to  take  possession  of  the 
Cafe  Maximilian.  Instead  of  ordering  supper, 
we  asked  for  pens  and  paper,  and  each  one  of  us 
wrote  to  Richard  Wagner,  expressing  to  him 
all  the  admiration  and  delight  which  his  new 
masterpiece  had  inspired  in  us,  and  thanking 
him  for  having  accorded  us  the  great  favour  of 
hearing  it  before  the  general  public,  and  even 
alas,  before  he  himself  had  heard  it. 

XV 

It  was  the  25th  of  August,  anniversary  day  of 
the  birth  of  King  Ludwig  II.  Munich  was  adorned 
with  flags,  and  its  regiments  marched  in  full  dress 
uniforms  of  sky  blue.  We  had  heard  one  of  their 
bands  play  before  the  Royal  Palace  the  very 
"  Huldigung-Marsch  " — which  I  had  so  laboriously 
deciphered  at  four  hands  with  Wagner.  The 
King  was  not  in  Munich,  but  would  come  in  time 
to  be  present  at  the  dress  rehearsal  of  the  Rhein- 
gold,  which  was  to  take  place  on  Friday  the  27th 
of  August — two  days  later. 

Ludwig  II.,  who  was  adored  by  his  people,  did 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  175 

not  seek  for  ovations.  On  the  contrary,  he 
avoided  them  as  often  as  possible,  and  thereby 
greatly  disappointed  the  Bavarian  people,  who 
were  always  eager  to  see  him  and  were  so  rarely 
gratified ! 

It  appeared  indeed,  that  all  the  young  girls 
of  the  kingdom,  and  even  perhaps,  all  the  women, 
were  in  love  with  their  youthful  and  charming 
sovereign ;  but  he  was  haughty  and  reserved  by 
nature,  and  in  the  wonderful  locations  which  he 
had  chosen  for  his  castles  he  lived  almost  alone, 
surrounded  by  the  splendours  of  art  and  the 
beauties  of  Nature. 

This,  however,  did  not  prevent  him  from 
fulfilling  his  duties  as  king ;  he  had  according  to 
custom  inaugurated  the  International  Exposition 
of  Painting,  and  had  left  the  city  the  same  day. 
Very  few  would  have  the  opportunity  of  seeing 
him  when  he  should  return  to  hear  the  work  of 
his  great  friend. 

I,  too,  was  born  on  the  25th  of  August,  the  day 
of  St  Ludwig  the  king,  so  it  was  also  my  fete-day. 
I  had  told  Cosima  this  fact  because  of  my  vain- 
glory in  possessing  something  in  common  with 
the  royal  archangel.  To  my  great  surprise,  she 


176  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

remembered  it  and  sent  me  a  charming  parasol, 
of  a  new  model,  which  they  called,  "  Sea-side 
parasol,"  the  novelty  consisting  in  the  fact  that 
it  could  also  be  used  as  a  cane.  So,  in  promenading 
through  Maximilianstrasse,  I  liked  better  to  lean 
upon  my  parasol  than  to  open  it  and  shelter  myself 
from  the  sun. 

Many  pilgrims  were  to  be  seen  in  Munich, 
come  from  all  sides  to  hear  the  Rheingold. 
Among  them  were  pointed  out  to  us,  Madame 
Pauline  Viardot,  Saint-Saens,  Tourguenef,  Baron 
von  Leon,  manager  of  the  theatre  at  Weimar, 
and  many  others  whom  I  have  forgotten. 

We  were  all  very  nervous  and  excited.  Only 
two  days  more !  Would  everything  be  ready  ? 
Hans  Richter  could  not  conceal  his  disquietude, 
so  many  things  about  the  conduct  of  the  manager 
seemed  to  him  to  be  ambiguous. 

"  Perfall  will  not  allow  anything  to  be  seen  of 
his  stage  arrangements,"  said  he,  "  but  he  has 
the  expression  of  a  traitor." 

"  Perfall,  Perfide  !  " 

One  would  have  said  that  the  labours  of  the 
Cyclops  were  taking  place  behind  the  walls  of  the 
long  closed  theatre.  There  were  rumours  of 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  177 

steam  engines,  hoisted  upon  the  stage  by  means 
of  lifting  machines  and  pulleys.  For  what 
purpose  ?  Truly  it  was  very  terrifying ;  what 
would  come  of  all  this  mystery  ? 

In  any  case  Richter  was  sure  of  his  orchestra. 
It  was  he,  who  like  St  Christoper  with  the  child 
Jesus,  would  bear  the  whole  weight  of  the  under- 
taking upon  his  robust  shoulders. 

XVI 

At  last  it  was  the  27th  of  August  and  we  entered 
the  theatre. 

A  crowd  of  spectators  were  gathered  about 
the  entrance  and  before  the  Royal  Palace. 
They  must  have  known  that  the  apartments  in 
the  palace  communicated  directly  with  the  royal 
box,  and  that  no  one  could  see  the  King  pass 
or  know  when  he  entered  the  theatre,  so  it  could 
only  have  been  the  irresistible  attraction  of  walls 
behind  which  something  is  happening,  that  held 
all  those  loungers  there. 

The  theatre  was  brilliantly  lighted,  although 
nearly  empty.  The  hundred  or  so  persons  whom 
the  King  had  seen  fit  to  invite  were  scattered 
through  the  house  and  were  hardly  noticeable. 


M 


178  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

The  side  boxes  and  a  few  rows  of  the  orchestra 
chairs  were  to  be  used  on  this  occasion.  The 
dress  circle  and  the  boxes  facing  the  stage,  in  the 
midst  of  which  the  royal  box  filled  so  large  a 
space,  were  shut  off. 

I  gazed  at  the  sumptuous  decorations  of  that 
loge,  the  frame  to  which  the  picture  was  as  yet 
lacking,  but  which  would  hold  in  a  few  moments 
the  so  longed-for  figure  of  the  young  sovereign. 
It  would  be  our  first  glimpse  of  him,  of  that  being 
who  inspired  in  us  such  a  profound  sympathy, 
of  him  who  radiated  the  glory  of  having  been  able 
to  correct  an  error  of  destiny,  and  diminish  the 
shame  that  humanity  would  endure  for  having 
failed  to  recognise  Genius. 

The  blue  velvet  draperies  with  their  rich  folds 
held  back  by  cords  of  gold,  the  crown  and  coat 
of  arms,  lozenged  in  blue  and  silver,  and  borne  by 
the  rampant  lions,  which  signified  in  the  language 
of  heraldry  "up  and  ready,"  these  only  caught 
the  light,  and  the  royal  box  itself  was  like  a  grotto 
of  darkness. 

All  of  a  sudden  the  King  was  there,  sparkling 
in  the  obscurity  like  a  star  emerged  from  the  mist. 
His  youthful  visage  gave  us  a  delightful  surprise. 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  179 

We  had  not  imagined  him  like  that,  at  once 
feminine  and  headstrong,  ingenuous  and  arrogant. 
In  contrast  to  the  very  black  locks  of  his  hair, 
which,  standing  up  from  his  forehead,  seemed  to 
guard  him  like  a  wave  of  flame,  his  skin  was  of  a 
warm,  almost,  dusky  pallor,  and  a  singular  ex- 
pression of  energy  contrasted  strongly  with  the 
delicate  modelling  of  his  features ;  but  one  was 
instantly  fascinated  by  the  extraordinary  splendour 
of  those  eyes,  blue-green  as  the  sea,  fringed  with 
long  black  lashes,  eyes  profound,  ecstatic.  .  .  . 
"  Nothing  is  able  to  give  any  idea  of  the  magic 
of  that  glance,"  said  the  Master. 

The  king  advanced  to  the  front  of  the  box. 
His  tall  form  dominated  the  house  for  an  instant : 
then  he  seated  himself.  Very  soon  the  lights 
were  turned  down  and  the  vision  vanished.  But 
Hans  Richter  did  not  yet  give  the  signal  to  the 
orchestra.  The  footlights  were  lighted,  but  before 
the  curtain  was  drawn  a  man  slipped  out  before 
it  from  a  corner  of  the  stage. 

Perfall,  the  manager !  What  could  he  wish  to 
say? 

After  many  bowings  and  scrapings,  with  his 
hand  on  his  heart  he  spoke,  he  implored  "  the 


i8o  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

indulgence  of  the  select  public  before  whom  he 
had  the  honour.  ...  In  spite  of  the  best  will  in 
the  world,  of  long  conscientious  efforts  .  .  . 
insurmountable  difficulties  of  scenery  .  .  . 
effects  impossible  to  realise.  ...  It  had  been 
necessary  to  give  up  the  idea  of  attaining  perfec- 
tion, and  to  be  content  with  what  could  be  done, 
regret,  chagrin  .  .  .  but  there  is  no  flying 
without  wings.  .  .  ." 

The  presence  of  the  king  kept  back  all  marked 
demonstration :  yet  even  that  could  not  stifle  the 
indignant  murmur  that  followed  Perf all,  when,  after 
fresh  cringings,  he  disappeared  behind  the  curtain. 

Richter  struck  angrily  upon  his  desk,  as  if  he 
were  hitting  the  back  of  the  traitor.  The  low 
note  began  its  muffled  vibration,  the  prelude 
commenced :  but  we  no  longer  listened  in  the 
religious  absorption  of  the  other  day,  we  were 
afraid  to  see  the  curtain  drawn  aside  .  .  .  and 
at  that  moment  it  was  drawn. 

One  was  disappointed  at  the  very  first  glance ; 
no  sign  of  the  green  shadows,  of  the  humid  and 
troubled  depths  which  we  had  expected  to  see, 
only  very  dry  rocks  of  moulded  paper,  resting 
without  mystery,  upon  the  boards  of  the  stage. 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  181 

A  frightful  oil  lamp,  suspended  from  the  highest 
moulding  was  supposed  to  represent  "  the  gold 
of  the  Rhine."  It  only  recalled  the  lantern 
which  is  placed,  by  night,  at  the  top  of  a  street 
obstruction.  .  .  .  The  crystalline  voice  unrolled 
its  clear  melody,  but  at  this  point,  a  mannikin 
with  dangling  arms  and  hair  hanging  before  its 
face,  intended  for  an  undine,  was  precipitated, 
head  first,  from  above  and,  half  way  down,  re- 
mained suspended,  balancing  from  the  end  of  a 
string.  At  the  moment  when  the  other  voices 
were  heard,  other  images  of  the  same  nature 
fell  from  above  and  oscillated  in  the  deplorable 
attitudes  of  the  drowned.  Soon  after,  the  manni- 
kins  were  drawn  back,  and  the  true  singers,  standing 
upon  supports,  half  concealed  by  the  jutting  out 
of  the  paper  rocks,  appeared  and  agitated  their 
arms  to  represent  swimming.  Then  they  went 
away,  and  the  puppet  Rhine  maidens  returned 
and  capered  desperately  about  the  smoking  lamp. 

What  absurdity !  They  would  not  dare  to 
present  anything  so  bad  at  the  Punch  and  Judy 
show  of  the  Champs-Elysees. 

After  the  scene-shifting,  of  an  unbelievable 
awkwardness,  a  very  little  Walhalla,  like  a  castle 


i82  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

of  cards,  was  to  be  seen  upon  a  miniature  mountain. 
Wotan  had  the  appearance  of  a  wayfarer  who 
sleeps  in  the  open  air.  As  soon  as  he  began  to 
sing  however,  the  magnificent  voice  of  Betz 
made  one  willing  to  forget  all  else,  one  no 
longer  saw  the  ridiculous  landscape,  and  as  the 
mechanical  difficulties  were  over  for  the  time, 
one  could  listen  to  the  scenes  that  followed  up  to 
the  moment  of  the  descent  to  the  Nibelheim. 

At  that  point  the  management  took  its  revenge. 

A  frightful  and  continuous  hissing  suddenly 
drowned  both  the  voices  and  the  orchestra.  What 
in  the  world  could  it  be  ?  At  first  one  was  terri- 
fied, but  heavy  clouds  of  white  vapour  soon 
enveloped  the  scene  and  all  was  explained  :  the 
famous  machines !  A  red  Bengal  fire,  lighted 
too  late,  coloured  those  clouds,  which  were  sup- 
posed to  escape  from  the  subterranean  kingdom 
of  the  Nibelungen  forgers. 

When,  a  little  later,  Alberich  should  have 
donned  the  magic  helmet  in  order  to  take  the 
form  of  the  dragon,  he  very  simply  walked  off 
at  the  wings  and  the  dragon  entered  by  the 
same  path,  then  the  dragon  went  back,  and  the 
man  returned. 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  183 

The  steam  engine  was  not  employed  in  the  last 
scene ;  at  the  moment  when  Donner  assembled 
the  clouds  and  let  loose  the  storm,  the  hissing 
might  have  helped  to  represent  the  whistlings  of 
the  tempest.  At  that  time,  however,  what  seemed 
to  be  blocks  of  granite  descended  from  the  freize 
and  moved  to  the  right  and  the  left  without 
knowing  where  to  stop.  The  Gods  climbed 
painfully  up  after  the  storm,  and  beheld, 
added  to  the  scenery  of  before,  a  large  bridge 
in  white  linen,  which  crossed  the  valley  and 
reached  to  the  other  side,  erasing  and  overwhelm- 
ing the  tiny  Walhalla. 

Toward  this  whiteness  the  Gods  direct  their 
steps.  Then  that  must  be  the  rainbow  over  which 
they  are  to  pass.  Yes,  of  course  it  is,  for  now  a 
prismatic  light,  thrown  from  a  lantern,  runs 
distractedly  over  the  lower  end  of  the  linen, 
onto  Wotan's  nose,  everywhere  it  ought  not  to 
be,  and  never  reaches  the  bridge,  massive  and 
white,  for  which  it  is  intended. 

At  length  the  curtain  falls,  the  orchestra  is 
silent.  Richter,  red  with  wrath,  throws  down 
his  baton ;  the  usually  amiable  Richter  looks 
positively  fierce. 


i84  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

"  I  will  not  direct  such  a  Rheingold,"  cried 
he,  "  it  is  war  between  you  and  me,  Hen- 
Manager  !  "  And  to  us  he  said,  "  Wait  for  me 
at  the  Cafe  Maximilian,  we  must  join  together 
in  forewarning  the  Master.'* 

XVII 

The  first  presentation  of  the  Rheingold  was 
billed  for  Sunday,  the  29th  August,  two  days 
later.  Under  the  circumstances,  it  must  be 
prevented  from  taking  place. 

If  the  stage  settings  had  been  simply  mediocre, 
it  might  have  been  possible  to  resign  oneself  and 
count  upon  the  splendour  of  the  work  to  make 
one  forget  the  inadequacy  of  its  plastic  realisation  : 
but  here  there  was  too  much  of  the  grotesque, 
too  many  things  that  made  one  laugh,  the  bad 
faith  and  malevolence  were  too  evident :  there 
must  be  a  protest  so  violent  as  to  prevent  the 
accomplishment  of  the  sacrilege. 

After  we  were  all  reunited  in  our  usual  place 
at  the  Caf6  Maximilian,  the  conference  was  not 
a  long  one.  Richter  had  had  a  stormy  interview 
with  Perfall. 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  185 

"  Postpone  the  representation,"  said  Richter. 

"  The  representation  will  take  place  on  Sunday," 
replied  Perfall. 

"  We  shall  see  !  " 

"  We  shall  see  !  " 

"  And  he  will  see,"  added  Richter.  "  My 
resolution  is  taken,  but  I  did  not  wish  to  announce 
it  before  asking  Wagner's  advice.  Quick.  Let 
us  get  to  business  !  " 

He  wrote  a  dispatch  in  German,  and  we  wrote 
the  following  in  French  : 

"  Master,  the  orchestra,  under  the  direction  of 
Hans  Richter,  was  admirable.  The  singers  deserve 
the  highest  praise.  The  scenery  and  the  stage 
mechanism  are  absurd,  ridiculous,  impossible." 
And,  while  someone  hurried  off  with  the  telegrams, 
I  wrote  a  long  letter  to  Wagner,  giving  him  a 
detailed  account  of  the  spectacle  at  which  we  had 
just  been  present  and  concerning  which  we  were 
still  trembling  with  indignation. 

Betz  also  wrote  to  the  Master,  who  would 
receive  the  dispatches  the  same  evening  and  the 
letters  the  following  morning. 

We  awaited  the  replies  in  the  greatest  im- 
patience. 


186  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

The  first  telegram  which  arrived  the  next  day 
was  for  Richter : 

"  Will  they  really  offer  me  such  an  insult  as  to 
give  my  work  to-morrow  ?  " 

At  the  theatre  the  Rheingold  was  still  an- 
nounced. Richter  showed  Wagner's  dispatch  to 
Perfall,  but  he  paid  no  attention  to  it,  and 
persisted  in  his  determination  to  give  the  work 
upon  the  date  for  which  it  was  billed. 

I  received  a  letter  from  Tribschen  in  which 
Wagner  said  that  he  thanked  me  for  the  vivid 
description  I  had  sent  him  of  this  disaster,  that 
he  had  telegraphed  to  the  King  asking  him  to 
suspend  the  representations,  that  he  had  tele- 
graphed to  Betz  begging  him  to  refuse  to  sing 
under  such  conditions. 

On  Sunday  morning  Richter  went  for  a  last 
time  to  see  the  Director,  and  said  to  him : 

"  The  representation  of  the  Rheingold  will 
not  take  place  this  evening,  because  I  will  not 
conduct  the  work  against  the  wish  of  its 
author." 

"  You  will  not  conduct  it  this  evening,  nor 
any  other  evening,"  cried  Perfall — "  as  you  are 
no  longer  Capellmeister  to  the  Royal  Theatre." 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  187 

And  pale  with  rage,  he  signed  the  dismissal  of 
Hans  Richter. 

But  at  least  they  could  not  play  the  Rhein- 
gold  that  evening.  Better  that  the  sea  should 
swallow  one  man  than  the  whole  ship. 

A  strip  was  pasted  across  the  bills,  postponing 
the  performance  to  the  following  Thursday.  The 
management  sought  for  a  new  leader  of  orchestra, 
there  was  a  mad  rush  about  Munich,  where  many 
Capellmeisters  had  come  to  hear  the  Rheingold 

All  those  whom  they  solicited,  stole  away, 
leaving  the  city  precipitately ;  not  one  of  them 
cared  to  incur  the  disapproval  of  the  composer 
by  conducting  the  work  against  his  will. 

On  Monday  another  letter  brought  the  news 
that  Wagner  had  written  at  length  to  the  King, 
explaining  to  him  in  all  its  details,  the  affair 
of  the  Rheingold  and  begging  him  to  postpone 
again  the  performance  announced  for  Thursday 
to  the  following  Sunday.  If  it  were  in  accordance 
with  the  King's  wishes,  Wagner  would  himself  go 
to  Munich  to  re-instal  Richter  at  the  desk  and  to 
reorganize  the  scenes  as  much  as  possible. 

The  Master  had  submitted  the  same  conditions 
to  the  management  of  the  theatre  the  day  before, 


i88  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

and  had  received  a  telegram,  come  out  of  the 
Counsellor's  hump,  to  the  effect  that  the  conditions 
were  granted  and  that  they  only  prayed  him  to 
allow  them  to  give  the  representation  on 
Thursday. 

Wagner  telegraphed  in  answer  to  that : — 
"  I  await  a  response  from  the  King  to  a  letter 
sent  off  to-day." 

But  on  this  same  evening  of  Monday,  the  30th 
August,  Richter  received  a  dispatch  from  Wagner 
which  announced  his  own  arrival  for  the  follow- 
ing day.  He  had  not  the  patience  to  wait  for 
the  King's  answer.  He  would  come  in  the 
strictest  secrecy,  no  one  was  to  know  where  he 
would  stay,  and,  we  must  understand,  it  was 
necessary  to  guard  the  secret  most  carefully. 

XVIII 

"  Alte  Pferdestrasse,  Wagner,  who  has  just 
arrived  in  Munich,  is  there,  come  to-night,  after 
dark." 

We  had  all  gathered  at  Franz  Servais'  house 
to  await  the  news,  when  this  note  was  brought 
to  me  and  put  into  "  the  right  hands  "  with  much 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  189 

mystery.  It  was  not  signed,  but  Richter  had 
written  it. 

"  Richard  Wagner  here  !  "  We  expected  him, 
yet  now  we  were  surprised  and  troubled  that  he 
had  come,  even  though  in  answer  to  our  call.  .  .  . 
What  if  some  misfortune  should  grow  out  of  this 
incident !  .  .  .  On  the  contrary,  all  would  come 
right  now  that  the  Master  was  here,  his  presence 
would  work  miracles. 

"  Alte  Pferdestrasse,"  said  Servais,  "  Wagner 
has  gone  to  Scheffer's  home :  what  an  honour  !  " 

"  Who  is  this  Scheffer,  then  ?  "  asked  Villiers, 
"  always  so  silent  and  buried  in  his  beard  ?  One 
cannot  make  him  out  at  all." 

44  He  is  correspondent  of  some  small  German 
papers,  according  to  his  own  account,  but,  I 
believe  also  an  office-holder.  Certainly  he  is 
a  good  Wagnerian,  and  that  ought  to  suffice 
for  us." 

"  His  dog  is  also  that,"  replied  Villiers,  "  for 
he  only  comes  when  one  whistles  the  serenade  of 
Beckmesser." 

"  Where  is  the  Alte  Pferdestrasse  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  In  a  very  quiet  part  of  the  city,  but  it  is  not 
easy  to  find — "  said  Servais.  "  We  will  take 


igo  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

you  there  and  wait  for  you,  since  you  only  are 
invited  to  see  the  Master.  .  .  ." 

It  was  still  daylight  when  we  left  Servais'  house 
and  sauntered  slowly  along,  in  order  not  to  have 
the  air  of  conspirators.  We  asked  ourselves  if 
Wagner  really  ran  any  risks,  in  coming  to  Munich. 
He  was  not  really  exiled,  only  morally  so,  by  his 
own  resolution  not  to  go  there.  What  had  he 
to  fear  ?  The  public  was  eager  for  his  works  : 
the  price  of  seats  in  the  theatre  doubled  when 
they  were  played,  and  the  house  was  always  full. 
Were  his  enemies  still  so  implacable,  and  what 
could  they  do  ? 

We  stopped  before  the  theatre  to  read  the 
posters  and  wonder  what  Perfall  was  plotting. 
The  Rheingold  was  announced  for  Thursday, 
two  days  later.  The  management  was  stubborn  : 
nevertheless  it  would  have  to  concede  one  point ; 
who  would  conduct  the  orchestra,  if  not  Richter  ? 

We  went  on,  and  were  nearly  lost  in  a  labyrinth 
of  small  deserted  streets  with  grass  growing  between 
the  pavingstones,  with  little,  low  houses  and  small 
gardens. 

"  Alte  Pferdestrasse."  At  last  we  found  it ; 
my  companions  stopped  at  the  corner  of  the  street 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  191 

and  Franz  Servais  pointed  out  the  house  of  the 
greatly  envied  Scheffer.  The  entrance  door  was 
closed  and  I  knew  that  porters  were  not  usual 
in  the  Munich  houses.  I  could  see  the  shining 
brass  of  three  little  bells,  but  it  had  grown 
very  dark,  and  I  could  not  succeed  in  making 
out  the  name  of  the  resident  or  the  number  of 
the  floor  engraved  under  each.  Leaving  it  to 
chance,  I  rang  the  middle  one !  Chance  served 
me  this  time,  for  Scheffer  himself  came  to  let  me 
in.  We  mounted  a  narrow  dimly-lighted  staircase 
to  the  first  floor. 

As  soon  as  we  passed  the  threshold,  I  saw 
Wagner,  at  the  end  of  the  second  room,  seated  on 
an  old  sofa. 

Then  I  suddenly  remembered  Tribschen,  the 
superb  frame  which  seemed  so  fitting  a  place  for 
the  Master.  I  thought  how  at  this  hour,  between 
the  high  mountains,  deep  shadows  brooded  over 
the  dear  home,  which  no  longer  held  his  presence, 
and  anxiety  possessed  the  heart  of  her,  who  in 
spirit  followed  the  absent  one. 

How  strange  it  was  to  find  Wagner  in  this 
narrow  and  shabby  setting !  Yet,  because  it 
held  him,  one  was  no  longer  conscious  of  the 


i93  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

restrictions  :  he  transformed  all  that  surrounded 
him. 

"  Well,  dear  friend,"  he  said  to  me,  "  here  are 
the  Miserabilites  in  full  force  !  I  do  not  regret 
that  you  should  have  been  a  witness  of  the  occur- 
rence that  has  brought  me  here,  for  there  are 
some  things  that  one  could  never  believe,  unless 
one  had  seen  them." 

"  But  the  King,  what  does  the  King  say  ?  " 

"  Ah,  I  imagine  that  he  feigns  to  ignore  the 
fiasco,  and  does  not  wish  to  be  drawn  into  it. 
They  have  probably  persuaded  him  that  it  is 
impossible  to  do  better,  or  to  make  the  stage  effects 
realistic :  he  wishes  to  enjoy  again  the  pleasure 
he  had  in  hearing  the  music  and  probably  said 
to  his  subordinates  : 

"  '  Arrange  as  well  as  you  can,  but  give  me 
another  representation  of  the  Rheingold  as  soon 
as  possible.' ' 

"  How  could  he  understand,  after  having  put 
at  the  disposition  of  the  Director  the  enormous 
sum  of  sixty  thousand  florins,  and  commanding 
him  not  to  spare  time  in  obtaining  a  perfect  result, 
how  could  he  imagine  such  bad  will  and  malevol- 
ence in  those  whom  he  employs  ?  " 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  193 

"  But  now  that  you  are  here,  Master,  all  will 
be  different." 

"  No,  alas !  The  first  representation  is  still 
billed  for  Thursday.  The  King  wishes  it  and  I 
am  not  willing  to  oppose  him.  You  know  that 
all  my  new  works  belong  to  him,  in  exchange  for 
the  yearly  indemnity  which  he  grants  me.  As 
soon  as  any  score  is  completed,  I  send  it  to  him 
and  he  has  the  right  to  dispose  of  it  as  he  pleases. 
This  time,  I  am  protesting  inwardly,  but  mutely, 
against  the  fragmentary  representations  of  the 
Tetralogy.  But  how  can  I  feel  any  ill-will  toward 
the  King  for  his  impatience  ?  Toward  him  who 
has  endeavoured  in  every  way  to  put  through 
the  theatre  project  which  would  have  permitted 
the  bringing  out  of  my  work  as  a  whole  ?  He 
cannot  resign  himself  to  waiting,  as  I  should  have 
liked  to  have  him  wait,  for  the  better  times,  and 
he  wishes  to  see,  at  least,  the  representations  of 
parts  of  my  work.  I  can  only  submit  myself. 
And  all  this  creates  rather  a  delicate  situation. 
He  is  vexed  that  I  do  not  accept  the  situation 
as  he  has  done,  and  that  I  refuse  to  direct  the 
studies  of  the  Rheingold,  and  I  am  grieved  that 
he  exercises  his  right  to  have  them  represented. 


N 


194  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

But,  like  my  mute  protestation,  so  his  blame  is 
unspoken.  Nothing  greater  than  that  could  come 
to  trouble  a  friendship  such  as  ours ;  it  is  only 
a  squall,  which  dulls  for  a  moment  the  surface 
of  a  beautiful  lake." 

"  Then  Master,  what  will  you  be  able  to  do  here 
before  Thursday  ?  " 

"  First  and  above  all,  I  wish  to  re-instal  Richter 
at  the  desk  and  I  have  asked  for  a  rehearsal  to- 
morrow, for  myself  alone,  when  I  shall  endeavour 
to  improve  whatever  I  can,  to  correct  the  greatest 
faults,  if  it  is  possible  to  do  it.  I  owe  this  effort 
to  my  honour  as  an  artist,  to  the  devotion  of  our 
matchless  Richter  and  of  my  interpreters  ;  I  owe 
it  to  my  friends ;  this  conviction  has  made  me  break 
the  promise  that  I  made  to  myself,  not  to  come 
here,  or  mix  in  any  way  in  the  affair." 

Richter,  in  Wagner's  presence,  preserved  the 
ecstatic  expression  of  a  priest  before  a  holy 
apparition.  Standing  at  a  little  distance  he 
listened  to  the  Master  thoughtfully,  his  steady 
eyes  shining  behind  his  glasses,  in  the  midst  of 
the  abundant  gold  of  his  beard  and  his  hair.  He 
seemed  to  have  lost  the  power  of  speech.  As 
for  Scheffer,  seated  in  a  corner,  he  pulled  softly 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  195 

at  the  ears  of  the  dog  crouched  between  his  knees, 
and  watched  his  glorious  guest  with  a  devout  air. 

Wagner  endured,  or  seemed  to  endure,  these 
fresh  trials  with  an  admirable  serenity ;  he  had, 
as  it  were,  an  armour  of  happiness  which  the 
blows  of  fate  would  henceforth  hit  without  pierc- 
ing, and  this  group  of  disciples  zealous  for  the 
faith,  seemed  to  form  a  rampart  about  his 
heart. 

Very  cheerfully  he  gave  me  the  news  of  Tribschen 
and  of  the  vexations  that  the  Munich  events  had 
caused  there.  The  day  after  the  dress  rehearsal 
chanced  to  be  a  day  of  many  visitors.  "  One 
of  his  sisters  with  her  husband  and  daughter; 
an  eminent  student  of  Sanscrit,  professor  at  the 
University  of  Leipzig;  a  philologist  of  Basle" — 
that  was  Nietzsche — so  they  had  a  number  of 
people  with  them  at  two  o'clock  dinner.  This 
dinner  was  interrupted  ten  times  by  the  arrival 
of  telegrams;  the  Master  left  the  table  in  order 
to  write  a  reply ;  no  sooner  had  he  returned 
and  taken  his  place,  than  another  message  was 
brought  to  him  and  he  was  forced  to  absent 
himself  again.  All  those  good  people  were  amazed 
and  could  not  believe  that,  ordinarily,  in  that 


i96  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

dear  retreat  of  Tribschen,  one  saw  and  heard 
nothing  of  the  outside  world. 

By  the  questions  that  Wagner  asked  of 
Richter  concerning  certain  passages  from  the 
score  of  the  Rheingold,  the  effect  that  they  pro- 
duced, and  the  sound  of  new  combinations,  I 
comprehended  that  hardest  of  all  for  the  composer, 
in  the  sacrifice  upon  which  he  had  determined, 
was  to  deny  himself  from  hearing  his  orchestra : 
and  that  without  admitting  it  to  himself,  perhaps, 
he  believed  he  should  find  a  balm  for  this  intense 
desire,  in  the  rehearsal  which  he  had  solicited  for 
the  following  day.  Truly,  there  would  be  very 
little  opportunity  in  such  a  short  time,  of  materially 
improving  the  deplorable  scenic  arrangements. 
It  was  evident  that  the  Master  had,  above  all, 
two  things  most  at  heart :  to  hear  his  work  once, 
as  if  by  stealth — and  to  restore  Richter,  who 
was  without  means,  to  his  high  position  of 
Capelhneister  to  the  Royal  Theatre. 

We  should  see  what  to-morrow  would  bring ! 
Wagner  ought  to  make  the  attempt,  if  not  to 
sleep,  at  least  to  rest ;  Richter  and  I  took  leave 
of  him,  and  left  him  to  the  care  of  the  glorified 
Reinhard  Scheffer. 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  197 

XIX 

A  brougham  drawn  by  two  horses  stood  before 
the  house  in  Alte  Pferdestrasse,  when  I  went  to 
learn  the  news  the  next  day. 

Feeling  that  it  was  sure  to  be  some  one  from 
the  Court  who  was  in  conference  with  the  Master, 
I  did  not  enter  at  once,  but  sauntered  away  for 
some  little  distance,  waiting  till  the  interview 
should  be  over. 

It  lasted  a  long  time.  Finally  I  saw  Diifflipp, 
the  Court  Counsellor,  come  out,  followed  by  the 
Director,  Perfall.  The  swarthy  and  saccharine 
face  of  the  king's  secretary  was  all  shining  with 
perspiration.  He  wore  a  suit  of  chestnut-coloured 
cloth.  His  big  awkward  shoulders  disappeared 
into  the  carriage,  and  Perfall,  very  red  and  very 
much  given  to  obsequious  bowings,  closed  the 
door.  The  horses  reared,  stamping  noisily  on 
the  pavingstones,  then  pranced  off  at  a  great 
pace,  while  the  Director  walked  rapidly  away. 

They  both  had  the  aspect  of  rogues.  I  hurried 
up  the  stairs  to  Scheffer's  floor,  urged  by  anxiety 
and  the  desire  to  know  what  had  happened. 

I  found  Wagner  in  a  peculiar  state  of  mind, 


ig8  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

ironically  gay,  satirical,  full  of  jokes,  but  calm, 
without  any  trace  of  anger. 

"  Do  you  recall  that  sentence  of  King  Lear" 
he  asked  me,  "  '  The  worst  is  not  yet,'  when 
they  had  said :  4  this  is  the  worst '  ?  To-day 
surpasses  yesterday.  Tartufflipp  is  just  gone 
and  the  measure  is  full.  Not  only  do  they  refuse 
me  the  only  rehearsal  I  asked  for,  and  reject 
Richter  (who  has  failed  in  the  obedience  and 
respect  which  he  owed  to  such  a  director  as 
Perfall)  forever,  but  again  they  drive  me  away 
from  Munich.  I  am,  it  appears,  a  public  menace 
and  my  life  is  in  danger.  It  is  terrible !  The 
poor  counsellor  was  quite  distracted  about  it, 
his  hump  shivered  with  disquietude.  .  .  Truly,  if 
he  worries  so  about  me,  his  health  will  be  affected 
and,  in  order  to  prevent  such  a  misfortune,  I  must 
go  away  at  once." 

"  Oh !  without  seeing  even  one  rehearsal  of 
your  work  ?  " 

"  But  the  theatre  would  be  quite  likely  to 
collapse  upon  me  if  I  passed  its  threshold !  Do 
you  not  understand  ?  Tartufflipp  comprehends 
it  all  very  well ;  with  the  greatest  solicitude 
and  tenderness  he  incited  me  to  a  prompt  flight ! 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  199 

To  all  that  I  attempted  to  say  to  him,  he  made 
the  same  reply — 'But  that  is  not  the  question, 
do  not  remain  here,  you  must  not  stay,  how 
terrible  if  anything  were  to  happen  to  you ! ' 
"  Did  he  speak  in  the  name  of  his  Master  ?  " 
44  Not  at  all !  The  King  is  undoubtedly  ignorant 
of  the  fact  that  I  am  here.  I  tried  to  see  him, 
this  morning,  at  his  Castle  of  Berg ;  but  they 
told  me  he  had  gone  on  an  excursion.  There 
is  a  guard  all  about  him  in  order  to  prevent  my 
approaching  him.  But  I  foresee  in  all  this  a 
cause  for  recriminations  which  might  do  harm 
to  the  royal  person,  and  in  the  endeavour  to  spare 
him  all  annoyance  I  take  myself  off,  without 
protest.  You  may  be  sure  that  the  enormous 
sum  the  King  has  put  at  the  disposal  of  the 
theatre  has  given  rise  to  wrath  among  the 
ministers.  The  fact  that  this  sum  has  been  mis- 
used, squandered  without  profit,  through  the  in- 
capacity and  the  knavery  of  those  to  whom  it 
was  confided,  does  not  lessen  the  complaint 
against  the  King.  Then  let  us  accept  the  situation. 
We  will  let  people  imagine  if  they  can  that  the 
stage  arrangements  of  the  Rheingold  are  superb ; 
if  mincemeat  must  be  made  of  my  work,  I 


200  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

submit  to  it,  if  only  they  will  not  incriminate 
the  King,  and  will  leave  me  alone." 

At  that  moment  Richter  arrived. 

"  Master,"  said  he,  "  I  have  said  my  good-byes 
to  the  musicians  of  the  orchestra ;  they  replied  by 
a  very  touching  ovation  to  me,  and  they  begged 
me  to  assure  you  of  then1  most  enthusiastic 
loyalty." 

"  My  poor  friend,"  said  Wagner,  "  you  are  the 
real  victim  of  this  deplorable  fiasco." 

But  Richter,  his  eyes  sparkling  with  joy,  replied  : 
"  I  am  happy  !  " 

Wagner  reached  out  his  arms  and  embraced 
him  warmly. 

"  Ah  !  Here  is  Wotan  !  "  said  I— as  Betz,  the 
singer,  entered. 

"  They  are  pasting  up  new  posters  !  "  cried 
he.  "  '  The  orchestra  will  be  conducted  by  Herr 
Wiilner,  the  role  of  Wotan  will  be  sung  by  Herr 
Betz  ! '  Ha  !  ha  !  do  they  really  believe  so  ? 
Well,  the  Rheingold  will  neither  be  given  on  this 
Thursday,  nor  yet  on  Sunday,  because  I  have 
to  tender  my  farewell  to  you,  Master ;  instead 
of  signing  my  new  engagement  with  the  Royal 
Theatre  of  Bavaria,  I  am  going  this  evening  to 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  201 

Berlin,    without   even    forewarning   that    wretch 
of   a   Perfall." 


XX 

The  carriage  which  was  to  take  Wagner  to 
the  railway  station,  on  that  Thursday  the  2nd 
September,  was  to  come  for  me  before  going 
to  the  "  Old  street  of  horses,"  and  that  before 
daylight,  as  the  train  left  at  5.15  in  the  morning. 

This  time,  all  the  disciples  were  to  be  permitted 
to  see  the  Master — if  only  they  waked  early 
enough — and  it  was  arranged  that  they  should  bid 
him  farewell  at  the  station  where,  in  order  not 
to  attract  attention,  each  one  was  to  go  singly. 

The  sun  was  hardly  up  and  it  was  still  chilly 
in  spite  of  the  season,  on  that  high  plateau  where 
Munich  is  situated,  when  the  old  hackney  coach, 
driven  by  a  young  coachman  in  blue  and  with  a 
Tyrolean  hat,  carried  me  through  the  deserted 
city  streets. 

At  the  sound  of  the  little  bells  and  the  wheels 
of  the  coach,  Richter  came  down  with  the  hand- 
bag ;  then  came  Wagner  followed  by  Scheffer. 

The  Master  looked  very  well,  and  the  serenity 


202  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

of  his  humour  seemed  to  have  increased  since 
the  day  before. 

After  we  had  started,  I  complimented  him  upon 
the  strength  of  mind  which  sustained  him  in  the 
face  of  this  disaster,  upon  his  magnanimous 
resignation,  or  perhaps,  his  Olympian  scorn. 

"  Neither  the  one  nor  the  other !  "  said  he. 
"  I  have  found  my  force  in  the  belief  that  nothing 
essential,  nothing  of  that  which  is  closest  to  me, 
is  hurt  by  this  contention.  My  work,  after  the 
impression  which  it  has  made  upon  all  of  you, 
who  understand  me  so  intimately,  must  be  just 
what  I  wished  for  it,  and  it  soars  away  intact 
and  free,  from  amidst  the  tawdry  rubbish  with 
which  they  try  to  disguise  it. 

"  There  is  still  another  thing ;  it  is  that  human 
malignity  is  no  longer  able  to  reach  or  hurt  me 
deeply  across  the  warm  affection  and  the  devotion 
which  surround  me.  This  certainty  has  comforted 
me.  You  see  that  even  here,  as  I  go  away,  I 
leave  friends.  You  also  know  with  what  anxious 
tenderness  they  watch  for  my  arrival  at  home ! 
Truly,  when  I  think  of  the  past  and  the  despair 
into  which  such  circumstances  as  these  would 
have  plunged  me  then,  when  I  had  to  bear  my 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  203 

pain  alone,  I  am  able  to  feel  almost  joyous.  Stop, 
look  at  the  excellent  Richter !  "  added  he  with 
a  laugh.  "  he  feels  as  I  do,  at  twenty-eight  he 
loses  a  position  that  a  mature  man  would  find  it 
difficult  to  obtain,  and,  in  place  of  the  downcast 
countenance  he  ought  to  have,  he  shows  us  a 
sincere  expression  of  the  most  complete  satis- 
faction." 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  sitting  opposite  the  Master, 
Richter,  the  golden,  gazed  at  him  with  an  air  of 
utter  beatitude. 

"  It  is  because  Richter,  he  also,"  say  I,  "  soars 
above  the  '  miserabilites,'  he  even  carries  a 
glorious  palm,  and,  like  the  martyrs  of  the  Coliseum, 
he  sings  thanksgivings  while  the  lions  are  eating 
him." 

"  Verily,"  cried  Richter,  "  I  go,  like  them, 
straight  to  Heaven  !  " 

That  was  true,  for  Wagner  had  "  commanded  " 
Richter  to  go  and  instal  himself  at  Tribschen  and 
await  events  there. 

As  we  passed  through  the  Maximilian  Square, 
the  Master  called  attention  to  a  statue  with 
which  he  was  unfamiliar. 

"  Who  is  that  ?  "  asked  he. 


204  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

"  It  is  Goethe,  by  Widnmann,"  responded 
Scheffer. 

Wagner  lifted  his  soft  felt  hat  and  said  ; 

"  It  is  a  striking  likeness  !  " 

Then  he  added : 

"  I  said  that  for  fun,  but  I  could  very  well  have 
known  Goethe,  I  must  have  been  about  fifteen 
when  he  died.  However  I  should  be  pleased  to 
make  you  believe  that  I  am  younger  than  Richter  !' 

"  You  are  younger,  Master ;  the  Immortals 
have  no  age." 

At  the  station  we  were  all  reunited.  There 
were  Villiers,  Schure,  Servais  and  others.  Wagner 
took  them  all  cordially  by  the  hand  and  Richter 
presented  to  him  Franz  Servais,  whom  he  did  not 
yet  know,  but  of  whom  Liszt  had  often  spoken 
to  him. 

The  train  was  in  readiness,  the  compartment 
chosen,  some  one  arranged  the  luggage. 

The  Master,  in  a  boyish  humour,  sat  on  the 
floor  of  the  carriage,  in  the  opening  of  the  door, 
the  step  serving  for  his  footstool.  We  ranged 
ourselves  in  a  circle,  which  formed  a  rampart 
about  him. 

I  always  remember  him  so  under  his  big  gray 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  205 

felt  hat,  with  his  luminous  blue  eyes,  his  laughing 
mouth,  so  finely  cut  above  the  prominence  of  the 
wilful  chin,  and  the  neckerchief  of  yellow  satin 
which  he  had  crossed  over  his  throat  because  of 
the  chilly  morning  air. 

He  reminded  us  of  our  promise  to  go  again 
and  greet  him  at  Tribschen  on  our  way  back  to 
Paris.  He  also  invited  Servais  to  go  when  we 
did. 

"  Since  they  have  chased  me  out  of  Munich," 
said  Wagner  "  those  who  love  me  have  nothing 
further  to  keep  them  here." 

"  We  shall  remain  only  a  few  days,"  said  I, 
"  to  keep  an  eye  on  the  enemy  and  to  see  whether, 
furious  at  his  defeat,  he  may  not  prepare  some 
vengeance." 

"  Bah !  the  conqueror  saves  himself  and  will 
be  out  of  reach  of  his  blows.  But  let  it  be  well 
understood  that  I  triumph  in  spite  of  myself, 
thanks  to  the  generous  defection  of  Betz,  that  I 
did  not  wish  in  any  case  to  oppose  the  will  of  the 
King  nor  to  prevent  the  representation.  As  for 
you,  Richter,  do  not  forget  that  I  only  give  you 
time  to  go  and  embrace  your  mother  and  to  strap 
your  trunks  .  .  .  and  then  you  must  come  as 


206  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

fast  as  possible  to  Tribsehen,  where  your  room 
is  prepared." 

Without  responding,  Richter  seized  the  Master's 
hand  and  kissed  it. 

The  heartless  whistle  of  the  train  interrupted 
us.  We  must  separate.  Wagner  rose  and  stepped 
into  the  carriage ;  the  door  was  closed.  Still 
leaning  from  the  window,  he  waved  his  grey  hat ; 
the  wind  scattered  the  locks  of  his  hair  about 
his  splendid  forehead,  and,  as  long  as  the  train 
remained  in  sight,  we  continued  to  signal  with 
our  handkerchiefs  our  latest  farewell. 

XXI 

Richter's  mother  lived  in  a  little  village  some- 
where in  the  neighbourhood  of  Munich.  He  had 
planned  to  pass  two  or  three  days  with  her  before 
his  departure  for  Lucerne  and  had  asked  us  to  go 
with  him ;  he  would  show  us  the  country  and  we 
should  be  able  to  return  to  Munich  the  same  day 
before  the  evening  meal. 

Villiers  and  Servais  were  of  the  party.  We 
passed  through  pleasant  and  hilly  country, 
picturesque  with  the  villages  of  the  suburban 
residents. 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  207 

Frau  Richter  was  a  professor  of  singing,  and 
it  was  the  lesson  hour  when  we  entered  the 
little  house  where  she  lived.  Scales  and  trills 
of  remarkable  shrillness  struck  our  ears,  while  we 
waited  on  the  ground  floor  for  the  lesson  to  be 
over.  The  pupils  passed  us  on  their  way  out,  and 
Richter  conducted  us  up  to  the  first  floor  and  into 
the  drawing-room,  which  was  well  furnished  in 
a  homelike  and  very  German  fashion. 

Frau  Richter  was  still  a  young  woman,  of 
attractive  presence  and  manner.  She  spoke  very 
regretfully  of  the  events  which  had  led  to  the 
dismissal  of  her  son  and  she  seemed  to  fear  that 
he  would  never  again  find  so  good  a  position. 

They  brought  us  beer  and  bretzels.  The  talk 
languished  a  little  at  first,  but  when  Richter  told 
us  that  his  mother  had  invented  a  method  of 
singing  which  increased  the  power  of  the  voice 
five-fold,  she  at  once  became  interested  and 
animated. 

In  fact,  the  pupils  we  had  heard  just  before, 
had  seemed  to  us  to  have  a  very  unusual  volume 
of  tone. 

Frau  Richter's  method  consisted  in  throwing 
the  sound,  when  singing,  against  the  vault  of 


208  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

the  palate,  which  then  forms  a  sort  of  drum 
increasing  the  resonance  and  the  force  of  the 
tone  to  an  astonishing  degree. 

Richter  sat  down  at  the  piano  and  sang  according 
to  this  method.  His  voice  came  out  in  tremendous 
volume,  making  the  little  house  tremble  to  its 
foundation. 

"  One  would  say  that  his  palate  was  made  of 
tin,"  cried  Villiers. 

Our  amiable  hostess  explained  her  discovery 
in  detail,  illustrating  meanwhile  in  a  voice  that 
sounded  like  a  bell. 

Servais  was  the  first  one  to  grasp  the  idea,  he 
tried  it  and  produced  some  very  wonderful  bel- 
lo  wings. 

"  The  curious  thing  about  it,"  said  Richter, 
"  is  that  this  system  which  my  mother  has  found, 
does  away  with  all  fatigue.  One  is  able  to  use 
the  voice  indefinitely  in  this  way." 

And  Richter,  to  prove  the  truth  of  his  assertion, 
sang  us  the  entire  third  scene  from  the  Rheingold. 

When  we  had  taken  leave  of  our  hosts,  and 
were  established  in  our  railway  carriage,  we  made 
our  very  best  endeavours  to  sing  from  the  palate, 
and  the  result  was  a  scandalous  cacophony. 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  209 

XXII 

In  governmental  circles,  the  intrigues  continued 
around  the  incidents  occasioned  by  the  Rhein- 
gold,  and  the  journalists  who  took  their  cue 
from  there,  did  not  cease  to  expend  their  servile 
ink  in  writing  calumnious  articles. 

Finally  Wagner  was  constrained  to  break  the 
silence  he  had  wished  to  keep,  by  publishing  a 
short  article  in  the  Allgemeine  Zeitung  of 
Augsburg.  He  asserted  once  again  in  this  article 
that  he  had  never  offered  any  opposition  to  the 
execution  of  his  work.  "  I  should  certainly  be 
very  glad,"  he  wrote,  "  if  they  would  give  up  the 
idea  of  playing  it  under  such  deplorable  conditions  ; 
but  if  they  have  decided  to  do  so,  I  am  entirely 
resigned  and  I  have  no  intention  of  hindering  the 
representations . ' ' 

The  news  from  Tribschen  informed  me  that  the 
Master  was  in  good  health,  but  the  persistence 
of  this  animosity  toward  him  had  made  even 
his  strength  of  mind  waver  for  a  moment.  Cosima 
had  surprised  him,  one  day,  alone  in  his  room, 
seated  on  a  low  chair  and  sobbing.  But  serenity 
and  cheerfulness  soon  came  back,  he  applied 


2io  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

himself  again  regularly  to  the  work  which  he  had 
given  up  during  those  days  of  trouble,  and  then 
all  went  well. 

At  the  theatre,  Kindermann — "  the  singing 
gun " — as  Villiers  called  him,  because  of  his 
thundering  voice — who  interpreted  the  role  of 
one  of  the  giants,  studied  also  that  of  Wotan, 
abandoned  by  Betz. 

They  had  sent  to  Darmstadt  in  all  haste,  for 
the  very  skilful  decorator,  Brandt,  and  had 
requested  him  to  patch  up  the  scenery  a  little  if 
possible,  but  he  fled  away  more  quickly  than  he 
came,  declaring  that  he  could  not  do  anything 
with  such  horrors,  that  all  would  have  to  be  remade. 

The  management  did  not  give  up,  however, 
for  the  Rheingold  was  announced  for  the 
22nd  September. 

All  the  visitors  who  had  come  to  Munich  from 
different  countries  went  away  again,  one  after 
another.  Liszt  was  the  first  to  go.  Without 
doubt  he  went  secretly  to  Lucerne  to  see  his 
daughter.  Madame  Muchanoff  paid  us  a  farewell 
visit.  She  herself  would  pass  through  Lucerne 
and  make  a  visit  to  Wagner.  Richter  was  already 
at  Tribschen  and  Schure  would  also  go  there. 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  211 

We  were  the  last  to  leave  Munich,  in  spite  of 
the  anonymous  letters  which  we  daily  received, 
threatening  us  with  all  sorts  of  retribution  unless 
we  went  at  once.  "  It  is  you  who  have  prevented 
the  theatre  from  carrying  out  the  King's  orders  ; 
you  are  the  servants  of  a  traitor,  traitors  your- 
selves. ...  It  is  not  to  be  endured  much 
longer  etc.  ..."  But  we  were  not  in  the  least 
disturbed. 

Cosima  told  me  that  at  one  time  in  Munich 
she  had  received  each  day  as  many  as  four  or 
five  letters,  in  which  they  swore  that  she  should 
die  and  called  her  "  Prussian  spy." 

We  remained,  chiefly,  to  give  time  for  the  crowd 
of  visitors  then  at  Tribschen  to  leave,  in  order 
that  we  should  not  encumber  that  delicious  retreat. 
Finally  they  called  us  back  there  with  such  a 
charming  and  affectionate  insistence,  assuring  us 
that  there  was  no  longer  any  one  there,  that  we 
suddenly  decided  to  go. 

And,  face  to  the  enemy,  we  quitted  Munich, 
without  resentment  against  that  pretty  city, 
where  we  had  received  from  all  those  who  were 
not  in  league  with  the  Court  faction,  the  most 
sympathetic  and  cordial  welcome. 


212  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

XXIII 

This  time,  we  arrived  at  Tribschen  without 
being  expected. 

What  joy  to  know  and  to  return  !  to  leap  from 
the  boat  to  the  landing  with  its  familiar  little 
shed  !  to  see  again  with  our  real  eyes,  the  garden, 
the  house,  the  lovely  verdure,  the  air  so  blue.  .  .  . 

Servais,  who  saw  it  all  for  the  first  time,  was 
deeply  moved.  Villiers  exulted. 

I  ran  across  the  lawn,  to  be  the  first  to  arrive, 
Russ  discovered  us,  he  bounded  forward,  recognised 
me  and  greeted  me  with  loud  barks. 

Then  the  children  ran  with  cries  of  delight. 
In  the  salon,  the  sound  of  the  piano,  which  I  had 
heard,  suddenly  ceased.  Wagner  appeared  at 
the  top  of  the  steps  and  Cosima  followed  him. 

"  Ah  !  there  you  are  at  last !  "  cried  he,  hurry- 
ing down  the  steps.  "  Without  knowing  any 
thing  about  it,  I  expected  you  to-day  !  " 

And  they  embraced  us,  "  Not,"  as  Cosima 
declared,  "  like  people  of  the  world,  but  like 
peasants." 

How  much  they  had  to  tell  us,  and  to  re-tell 
chiefly  about  the  nightmare  of  the  Rheingold, 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  213 

which  started  up  again  when  they  thought  it 
had  subsided  and  was  not  yet  at  an  end ! 

"  You  can  imagine,"  Cosima  said  to  me,  "  the 
mixture  of  terror  and  of  joy  that  overwhelmed 
me,  when,  two  days  after  the  Master's  departure, 
I  received  the  dispatch  announcing  his  sudden 
return.  I  waited  for  him  at  the  station  with 
the  four  children  and  the  two  dogs.  At  the  sight 
of  his  radiant  expression  I  was  at  once  reassured, 
and  the  thought  that  I  have  something  to  do 
with  the  serenity  he  is  able  to  preserve  through 
all  this  trouble,  makes  me  feel  as  happy  as  it 
makes  me  proud.  The  moments  of  weakness 
and  discouragement  which  he  passed  through  will 
not  come  any  more,  and  Tribschen  will  remain 
the  paradise  that  you  know." 

They  had  had  one  satisfaction  all  through  these 
troubled  days :  the  reconciliation  with  Liszt, 
or  rather  the  end  of  the  misunderstanding. 
Cosima  confessed,  in  a  low  voice,  that  her  father 
had  come  one  evening,  secretly ;  that  he  had 
passed  a  night  at  Tribschen,  and  that  this  had 
been  a  very  sweet  consolation.  Now  they  had 
cut  off  all  relation  with  the  outer  world  again, 
and  they  lived  for  noble  labour  and  domestic  joys. 


2i4  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

"  Do  you  know  how  we  were  occupied  when 
you  arrived  ?  "  the  Master  asked  me. 

"  You  were  making  music,  but  it  did  not  seem 
to  me  to  be  from  Wagner." 

"  We  were  playing,  Cosima  and  I,  some  of 
Haydn's  symphonies,  arranged  for  four  hands, 
and  that  with  the  greatest  pleasure.  We  have 
chosen  the  twelve  English  Symphonies,  which 
Haydn  wrote  after  the  death  of  Mozart.  For 
some  time  we  have  been  following  this  study 
and  it  has  given  us  some  delightful  hours." 

Richter  who  had  been  at  Tribschen  for  several 
days,  had  undoubtedly  heard  us  arrive.  He 
slipped  into  the  drawing-room  almost  furtively, 
and  saluted  us  with  a  restrained  affection.  In 
Wagner's  presence,  he  always  seemed  ecstatic 
and  overwhelmed.  Cosima  assured  me  that  he 
had  been  so  since  his  arrival.  "  One  can  hardly 
make  him  speak.  He  stays  out  of  sight,  for 
fear  of  being  in  the  way,  renders  all  sorts  of  services, 
goes  to  bathe  the  dogs,  and,  when  he  is  present 
he  stands  off  in  a  corner,  where  he  listens  and 
admires.  Sometimes  he  starts  away,  suddenly, 
and  one  can  hear  him  going  down  to  the  kitchen. 
Curious  to  know  what  he  wanted  to  do  there, 


JUDITH   GAUTIER   IN   HER  GARDEN   AT   SAINT   EUOGAT. 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  215 

one  evening  some  one  followed  without  his  sus- 
pecting it,  and  heard  him  relating  to  the  servants 
who  listened  to  him  open-mouthed,  as  to  a 
sermon,  all  the  beautiful  things  that  Wagner 
kad  said  !  " 

XXIV 

To-day    they  presented    to    me    Siegfried, — 
familiarly    called    "  Fidi."      He    is    a    splendid 
baby,  who  weighs  down  the  arms  of  his  nurse. 
He  does  not  talk  yet,  but  he  understands  what 
is  said  to  him.    They  ask  him  : 

"  Fidi,  wie  gross  bist  du  ?  " 

("  Fidi,  how  big  are  you  ?  ") 

He  holds  up  his  arms  and  shows,  with  a  laugh 
full  of  dimples,  that  he  is  as  high  as  the  ceiling. 

"  Here,"  said  I,  "is  a  little  being  who  has  a 
very  exceptional  origin :  descendant  of  Wagner 
and  Liszt !  What  plans  of  future  glory  have 
they  already  formed  for  him  ?  " 

"  That  is  all  very  vague,"  said  the  mother, 
laughing.  "  I  have  the  ambition,  first  of  all, 
to  assure  him  a  modest  income,  so  he  may 
always  be  sheltered  from  those  terrible  material 
worries,  those  shameful c  little  miseries  '  from  which 
I  have  suffered  so  cruelly.  Then  I  should  like 


216  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

to  have  him  know  something  of  surgery,  so  he 
could  give  help  to  anyone  who  was  wounded,  make 
a  first  dressing.  I  have  so  often  been  grieved 
by  my  own  helplessness,  when  an  accident  has 
happened  near  me,  that  I  wish  to  spare  him  that 
pain.  Otherwise  I  shall  leave  him  quite  free. 
I  should  be  glad,  however,  if  he  were  to  develop 
a  taste  for  architecture." 

"  While  we  are  waiting,"  added  Cosima  to  me, 
"  for  the  future  architect  to  declare  himself,  do 
you  feel  yourself  worthy,  dear  friend,  of  fulfilling 
a  mission  of  confidence  on  his  behalf  ?  The  nurse 
is  just  going  to  her  dinner,  which  is  served  before 
ours ;  as  for  me,  I  have  a  bath  ready  which  the 
sun  has  warmed ;  water  heated  in  that  way  is 
very  hygienic ;  I  should  like  to  take  my  plunge 
right  away,  hi  order  not  to  be  late  for  dinner. 
Now,  this  is  the  hour  when  Fidi  is  in  the  habit 
of  sucking  a  biscuit  soaked  in  madeira ;  and 
there  is  no  one  to  give  it  to  him  but  you." 

"  Madeira  at  his  age  ? "  I  am  very  much 
surprised,  but  I  make  no  objection,  being  also 
very  conscious  of  my  own  incompetence. 

So  here  I  am  installed  in  the  garden,  near  a 
little  iron  table,  on  the  other  side  of  the  curtain 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  217 

of  shrubbery  which  conceals  Cosima's  bath.  Fidi 
is  on  my  knees.  Penetrated  by  the  importance 
of  my  task,  I  soak  the  biscuit  in  the  madeira, 
neither  too  much  nor  too  little,  and  I  am  very 
careful  not  to  soil  the  pretty  embroideries  of  the 
robe.  The  baby  eagerly  sucks  the  golden  wine 
and  swallows  the  biscuit,  without  coughing  or 
choking.  I  am  not  able  to  see,  but  behind  the 
leaves  I  hear  the  splashing  of  the  water  and  Cosima's 
voice  encouraging  me.  All  goes  well,  as  long 
as  the  madeira  and  the  biscuit  last.  But  when 
there  is  nothing  more,  Fidi  gives  manifest  signs 
of  impatience.  He  twists  himself  about,  in  order 
to  escape  and  slide  to  the  ground.  Shall  I  let 
him  go  ?  Never !  I  am  not  authorised.  I 
do  not  even  know  if  he  can  walk  by  himself. 
But  he  is  quite  determined  to  get  down,  kicks 
vigorously,  and  looks  at  me  with  frowning  brows, 
as  though  he  were  astonished  that  I  do  not 
understand. 

"  Do  hurry,  Cosima,  Fidi  detests  me  and  wishes 
to  get  away." 

"  No  indeed,  he  loves  you  very  much,"  cried 
the  bather,  "  hold  him  tight." 

So   I   hold   him   tight,  but   he  has   incredible 


2i8  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

strength  and  a  persevering  will.  The  struggle 
is  painful  and  long  .  .  .  finally,  when  they  come 
to  my  aid,  it  becomes  evident,  too  late,  that  the 
baby  had  serious  reasons  for  his  determination 
to  get  down. 

XXV 

This  morning,  Richard  Wagner  received  a 
letter  from  the  celebrated  Pasdeloup.  .  .  . 

It  will  be  remembered,  perhaps,  that  at  this 
time,  Pasdeloup  had  been  director  of  the  Theatre 
Lyrique  for  rather  more  than  a  year.  He  had, 
as  a  matter  of  course,  produced  at  his  theatre, 
first  of  all,  one  of  Wagner's  operas,  and  as  he 
intended  to  play  them  all  in  succession  he  had 
begun  with  Rienzi,  the  first  as  to  date.  The 
work  had  been  brilliantly  mounted  and  well 
received,  and  the  tenor,  Monjauze,  really  remark- 
able in  the  role  of  the  Tribune,  had  had  a  very 
decided  success. 

In  his  letter  of  to-day,  Pasdeloup  wrote  that 
Rienzi  was  to  be  given  again  at  the  re-opening 
of  the  theatre,  but  without  Monjauze,  who  had 
unfortunately  broken  his  arm. 

They  begrudged   Monjauze   and  regretted  ex- 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  219 

ceedingly  that  it  was  necessary  to  replace  him, 
for  he  alone,  in  that  work,  was  equal  to  his  part. 
Pasdeloup  did  not  say  who  would  take  his  place. 

It  was  on  the  occasion  of  that  first  representation 
of  Rienzi  at  Paris,  that,  urged  by  Pasdeloup,  I 
had  written  again  to  Wagner, — after  the  sending 
of  the  famous  articles  which  had  brought  me 
the  beautiful  response  from  the  Master,  in  which 
he  explained  to  me  certain  scenes  from  the 
Meistersinger  —  I  wrote  this  time,  to  ask  if 
he  would  not  like  to  come  to  Paris  to  stage 
and  direct  this  work.  He  replied  to  me  with  a 
second  letter,  equally  beautiful  and  very  dignified, 
intended  for  publication  and  which  appeared 
in  La  Liberte. 

"  Now  that  I  know  your  writing,"  said  I  to 
Cosima,  "  I  realise  that  the  letter  was  by  your 
own  hand." 

"  That  is  true,  Wagner  wrote  it  first  in  German. 
I  translated  it  into  French,  then  we  re-read  it 
and  corrected  it  together,  and  finally  I  copied 
it  again." 

"  How  wrong  of  us  to  have  given  you  all  that 
trouble !  Pasdeloup  was  over-confident.  If  I 
had  known  about  this  retreat  of  Tribschen,  how 


220  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

sacrilegious  would  have  seemed  to  me  the  idea 
of  asking  the  Master  to  leave  it  in  order  to  please 
a  Theatre  Director  !  " 

"  You  have  seen  by  the  affair  of  the  Rheingold, 
that  it  is  much  better  for  Wagner  not  to  mingle 
with  the  theatrical  world.  His  first  duty  is 
to  keep  his  creative  faculty  intact,  but  he  is  a 
4  fighter,'  and  is  always  tempted  to  throw  himself 
into  the  fray." 

"  Now  that  I  have  the  joy  of  knowing  him, 
he  will  never  again  be  called  to  battle  by  me  !  " 

"  He  will  return  of  himself,  only  too  soon,  for 
repose  is  not  for  him,"  added  Cosima,  sighing. 

"  I  am  curious  to  read  again  that  letter  that 
you  wrote,  you  two,  when  you  believed  me  to 
be  a  very  serious  old  lady.  .  .  .  Do  you  remember 
your  surprise,  the  first  time  you  saw  me  to  find  me 
so  different  from  what  you  had  imagined  ?  You 
would  not  be  able  to  write  in  the  same  tone  now." 

"  Certainly,  the  style  of  your  articles  does 
not  at  all  resemble  you,  and  we  did  not  in  the 
least  foresee  the  gamin  that  you  are  .  .  .  some- 
times !  " 

"  Neither  could  I  have  known  that  Wagner 
climbed  trees. 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  221 

"  But  in  any  case  the  letter  had  nothing  private 
in  it ;  it  was  written  to  be  published." 

Cosima  had  kept  a  copy  of  the  text,  which  she 
found,  and  we  read  it  together  : — 

"  Madame, 

'  You  are  kind  enough  to  ask  me  for  some 
details  relating  to  the  time  of  my  first  stay  in 
France,  with  the  kindly  intention  of  writing  an 
article  by  their  aid,  the  publication  of  which 
shall  coincide  with  my  arrival  in  Paris,  which 
you  believe  to  be  near.  While  thanking  you  for 
the  interest  which  you  are  so  kind  as  to  feel  for 
me,  permit  me  to  say,  Madame,  that  it  is  not 
my  intention  to  go  to  Paris.  I  know  that  I  have 
excellent  friends,  indeed,  even  numerous  friends 
there,  and  I  hope  I  do  not  need  to  assure  you 
that  I  am  capable  of  appreciating  the  value  and 
the  importance  of  the  testimonies  of  sympathy 
of  which  I  am  the  object.  Nevertheless  my 
presence  and  my  participation  in  the  representation 
that  is  being  prepared  might  very  well  give  rise 
to  a  misunderstanding.  It  would  appear  as 
though  I  were  putting  myself  at  the  head  of 
a  theatrical  enterprise  with  the  intention  of 


222  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

regaining  by  Rienzi  that  which  I  have  lost 
by  Tannhduser.  At  least  it  would  undoubtedly 
be  in  this  way  that  the  Press  would  interpret 
my  going.  Whereas  the  stage  setting  of  Rienzi 
at  the  Theatre  Lyrique  has  only  been  an  en- 
tirely personal  question  between  M.  Pasdeloup 
and  me. 

"  After  the  production  of  the  Meistersinger 
at  Munich,  and  the  attention  it  attracted,  many 
propositions  were  made  to  me.  At  first  they 
spoke  of  sending  a  German  troupe,  to  give  my 
six  operas,  one  after  another,  in  Paris ;  then 
some  one  wished  to  attempt  Lohengrin  in 
Italian,  then  again  Lohengrin  in  French,  and 
so  on.  In  short,  there  were  no  less  than  five 
projects  that  summer,  concerning  the  repre- 
sentations of  my  works  in  Paris.  Yet  I  did  not 
encourage  any  one  of  them.  When  M.  Pasdeloup 
told  me  that  he  had  accepted  the  directorship 
of  the  Theatre  Lyrique  with  the  intention  of 
giving  several  of  my  works,  I  did  not  feel  that 
I  could  refuse  to  this  zealous  and  capable  friend, 
the  authorisation  for  bringing  them  out;  and, 
as  he  desired  to  begin  with  Rienzi,  I  said  to 
him  that,  in  fact,  of  all  my  operas,  that  one  had 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  223 

always  seemed  to  me  best  adapted  to  the 
French  stage.  Written,  thirty  years  ago,  with  a 
view  to  Grand  Opera,  Rienzi  does  not  present 
so  many  difficulties  to  the  singers,  nor  will  it  offer 
to  the  Parisian  public  so  much  that  is  unusual 
as  the  works  which  have  followed  it.  Both  in 
subject  and  in  musical  form,  it  is  closely  related 
to  the  operas  that  have  been  popular  in  Paris 
for  a  long  time,  and  I  still  believe  that,  if  it  is 
richly  mounted  and  given  with  spirit,  it  has  a 
chance  of  success.  That  success  I  wish  for  it 
with  all  my  heart,  and  still  more  success  to  my 
friend  M.  Pasdeloup,  who,  of  his  own  free  will, 
has  valiantly  and  energetically  upheld  my  cause 
for  a  number  of  years.  But  I  should  be  unwise 
to  wish  to  contribute  to  that  success  by  my 
presence.  My  nature  as  well  as  my  destiny  have 
decreed  for  me  the  concentration  and  the  solitude 
of  work,  and  I  feel  myself  to  be  absolutely  unfit 
for  any  exterior  enterprise.  Either  Rienzi 
will  make  its  way  without  me,  or,  if  it  is  not 
capable  of  doing  so,  my  assistance  cannot  help 
it  and  we  can  only  suppose  that  the  conditions 
are  unfavourable. 

"Such  is,  in  a  few  words,  my  point  of  view 


224  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

and  the  line  of  conduct  which  I  have  decided,  or 
rather,  which  I  am  called  upon  to  follow,  with 
regard  to  the  representation  of  my  works  in  Paris, 
whichever  they  may  be.  And  please,  Madame, 
do  not  see  in  this  reserve  any  sign  of  unreasonable 
disdain,  which  could  be  assumed  to  mask  a  deeper 
feeling  of  rancour.  I  am  very  far  from  pooh- 
poohing  a  Paris  success,  and  I  even  assure  you 
that  I  have  always  considered  it  one  of  the  numer- 
ous ironies  of  my  fate  that  Rienzi,  composed 
within  sight  of  Paris,  was  not  given  there  long 
ago,  when  that  work  of  my  youth  still  held  for 
me  all  its  freshness.  But,  since  you  speak  of  the 
renown  that  I  have  acquired  in  Germany,  permit 
me  to  tell  you,  Madame,  that  all  such  renown 
has  come  without  my  personal  participation, 
with  the  help  only  of  a  few  friends,  in  the 
midst  of  the  howls  of  the  entire  Press  of  the 
North  and  of  the  South.  It  has  come  because 
of  my  works  alone,  and  in  spite  of  the  obstacles 
that  my  political  situation  opposed  to  the 
extended  knowledge  of  my  operas.  It  is  in 
the  same  way  that  I  wish  to  succeed  in  Paris, 
where  I  have  found  very  devoted  friends,  who 
are  too  intelligent  for  me  to  fear  to  leave  the  fate 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  225 

of  my  works  in  their  hands.  If  you  were  to  say 
to  me,  Madame,  that  a  representation  ought 
to  conform  to  my  intentions,  and  therefore  my 
presence  at  the  rehearsals  would  be  above 
all  necessary  to  the  success  of  the  enterprise,  I 
should  reply  to  you  that  Tannhduser  and 
Lohengrin  have  been  mutilated  by  the  greater 
number  of  German  Capellmeisters,  in  a  way  that 
could  not  be  exceeded  upon  the  worst  French 
stage,  and  that  is  only  since  the  King  of  Bavaria 
has  accorded  me  his  protection  that  it  has  been 
possible  for  me  to  make  my  dramatic  and  musical 
intentions  known  in  an  important  theatre. 

"  Believe  me,  Madame,  things  being  as  they 
are,  there  is  nothing  for  me  to  do  but  devote 
myself  entirely  to  the  writing  of  my  operas,  and 
as  to  their  fate,  in  my  own  country  as  well  as 
abroad,  to  leave  it  to  their  guiding  star  and  to  my 
friends.  I  am  not  the  man  for  compromises,  and 
yet  these  compromises  are  sometimes  indispensable. 

"  I  keep  out,  then,  in  order  not  to  render  more 
difficult  to  my  French  friends  the  rugged  path 
they  have  chosen  in  attempting  to  naturalise 
in  France  an  essentially  Germanic  individuality. 
If  this  naturalisation  is  possible,  it  will  be  accom- 


226  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

plished  by  them  without  my  help ;  if  it  is 
not  possible,  I  shall  deplore  their  pains,  at 
the  same  time  consoling  myself  in  the  thought 
that  they  as  well  as  I  have  drawn  their  forces 
elsewhere  than  from  the  idea  of  a  success,  and 
that  their  conviction,  like  mine,  renders  them 
independent  of  good  or  of  bad  fortune. 

"  Pray,  Madame,  pardon  the  length  of  this 
explanation,  and  believe  me  gratefully  and 
respectfully  yours, 

"  RICHARD  WAGNER." 

"  The  Master  was  nevertheless,  very  well  satis- 
fied with  the  success  of  the  piece,"  said  Cosima, 
"  and  above  all,  with  the  expressions  of  apprecia- 
tion that  it  won  for  him  from  unknown  friends. 
Then  too,  in  order  to  celebrate  his  birthday, 
the  22nd  May — inspired  by  one  of  the  most 
popular  scenes  in  the  opera — I  dressed  the  children 
as  '  Messengers  of  Peace  '  and  while  an  invisible 
choir  sang  for  them,  the  little  girls,  all  four  of 
them,  marched,  keeping  step  with  one  another, 
into  the  drawing-room  with  travelling  staffs  in 
their  hands.  Wagner  thought  it  a  very  pretty 
idea." 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  227 

"  Eva  as  a  messenger  of  peace  must  have  been 
delicious.  .  .  ." 

"  I  also  preserved  your  father's  article  about 
Rienzi,1  which  was  very  good,"  said  Cosima. 
'  Wagner  ought  to  have  written  to  thank  him." 

"  If  they  represent  Rienzi  again,"  said  I,  "  we 
shall  also  faithfully  renew  our  pilgrimage  to  the 
theatre.  Think  of  us  then,  two  and  a  half  weeks 
from  now,  as  going  every  day  from  the  heart  of 
Neuilly  to  the  Theatre  Lyrique,  and  never  failing 
to  be  in  our  places  in  time  for  the  Overture  !  " 

ARTICLE  PUBLISHED  IN  THE  "  JOURNAL 
OFFICIEL  " 

Rarely  has  Parisian  curiosity  been  more  vividly 
excited  than  by  the  following  simple  words 
inscribed  upon  the  placards  of  the  "  Theatre- 
Lyrique." 

Tuesday,  first  representation  of  Rienzi, 
Opera  in  five  Acts,  by  Richard  Wagner. 

In  an  age  when  the  general  interest  is  certainly 
not  with  works  of  art,  Wagner  has  the  gift  of 
stimulating  the  public,  of  calling  forth  frantic 
enthusiasms  and  provoking  violent  repulsions. 


228  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

The  mere  mention  of  his  name  assembles  clouds 
in  the  most  serene  heavens,  clouds  which  soon 
grow  into  a  storm,  lightning  breaks  out  in 
intermittent  flashes,  thunder  mutters  and  growls 
above  the  sound  of  the  rain,  the  wind  and  the 
hail.  In  all  this  tumult  no  one  remains  indifferent, 
the  universe  seems  about  to  collapse  and  each 
person  hurries  toward  the  altar  of  his  own  menaced 
deity. 

The  rival  choruses  of  detractors  and  admirers 
insult  each  other  as  at  the  taking  of  Messina  and 
are  ready  to  tear  each  other  to  pieces.  There 
is  an  excitement, — a  tumult — a  fury,  which  re- 
calls the  great  romantic  struggles  of  1830,  when 
the  young  followers  of  Hernani  broke  into  the 
theatre  with  their  password,  and  tore  away 
the  classic  masks  and  headgear — proclaiming  the 
liberty  and  independence  of  art. 

If  we  had  never  heard  a  note  of  Richard  Wagner, 
all  this  uproar  would  have  assured  us  of  his 
superiority.  He  troubled  all  the  musical  world 
too  profoundly  not  to  be  a  genius,  a  hero,  in 
accordance  with  the  meaning  of  Emerson  and 
Carlyle.  From  whatever  point  of  view  one  con- 
siders him,  he  always  produces  a  new  sensation, 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  229 

it  may  be  a  little  prematurely,  but  one  is  conscious 
even  now  that  he  will  become  the  sovereign 
master  and  that  nothing  can  prevent  his  future 
greatness.  Very  soon  his  victorious  banner  will 
float  from  the  highest  turret  of  the  citadel,  gilded 
by  the  sun  and  caressed  by  the  very  wind  which 
before  had  twisted  and  torn  it. 

Young  musicians,  not  yet  established,  regard 
Wagner  either  as  a  God  or  as  a  tempting  demon. 
It  is  Wagner  who  preoccupies  the  thoughts  of 
the  older  masters  already  secure  in  their  own 
glory,  and  in  every  contemporaneous  work  it 
is  not  difficult  to  find  some  reflections,  or  at 
least  traces  of  the  secret  study  of  this  powerful 
originator. 

A  chance  of  travel  led  to  my  being  present 
at  a  production  of  Tannhauser  in  the  theatre 
at  Wiesbaden,  at  a  time,  already  long  past,  when 
the  name  of  Richard  Wagner  was  hardly  mentioned 
in  France.  This  music,  strikingly  novel  to  us 
who  knew  absolutely  nothing  of  the  composer, 
made  an  impression  upon  us  at  the  same  time 
strange  and  delicious.  We  had  heard  for  the 
first  time  the  true  music  of  romance,  such  as 
poets  might  conceive  it.  The  opera  reproduced, 


23o  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

with  most  unaffected  fidelity,  the  legend  of  the 
good  knight  Tannhauser  and  Madame  Venus, 
living  happily  together  on  the  heights  of  Venusberg 
— until  at  last  the  noble  German,  who  was  a  good 
Catholic  at  heart,  became  suspicious  of  some 
witchcraft  and  said  to  his  mythological  companion  : 

"  Venus,  my  beautiful  Goddess, 
Thou  art  in  truth  a  demon." 

That  which  most  impressed  us  in  the  score 
of  the  Teutonic  Master  was  the  extreme  clearness 
of  the  musical  manner  of  translating  the  spoken 
phrase  by  means  of  a  continuous  melody,  with- 
out elaboration,  without  superfluous  flourish,  the 
orchestra  providing  the  commentary,  and  sustain- 
ing with  its  own  fulness  the  simplicity  of  the 
vocal  design.  We  sent  from  Wiesbaden  either 
to  the  "  Moniteur "  or  the  "  Artiste,"  we  no 
longer  remember  which,  an  appreciative  article 
which  ended  in  expressing  astonishment  that  an 
opera  so  original  and  unusual  had  not  yet  passed 
beyond  the  limits  of  the  Rhine.  Our  astonishment 
was  also  great  when,  some  years  later,  this  same 
Tannhauser — so  easily  given  at  the  theatre  of 
Wiesbaden,  by  singers  and  an  orchestra  which 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  231 

were  probably  not  the  first  in  Germany — having 
been  produced  here  at  the  Opera,  was  declared 
impossible,  foolish,  absurd,  outside  all  the  pos- 
sibilities of  the  theatre,  and  was  smothered 
under  a  storm  of  hisses.  They  muffled  Wagner's 
music  in  derisive  purple,  under  the  pleasantry 
"  Music  of  the  Future,"  but  the  wag  who  invented 
the  phrase  had  no  idea  that  he  spoke  so  truly. 
In  fact  its  time  has  come,  and  the  music  of  the 
future  is  very  near  to  being  the  music  of  to- 
day. The  fall  of  Tannhauser  in  no  way  unsettled 
our  convictions.  Critics  are  stubborn,  and  even 
though  they  are  not  dealing  with  the  old  romantic 
poets,  they  know  very  well  that  hisses  do  not 
kill  a  work  of  genius. 

They  said  of  the  dramatic  verses  of  Victor 
Hugo  precisely  what  they  say  of  the  musical 
phrases  of  Wagner.  Accusing  them  conclusively 
of  not  being  verse  at  all,  yet  to-day  it  is  a  common 
argument  of  advance  that  the  author  of  "  Ruy- 
Blas  "  and  the  "  Legende  des  Siecles "  is  the 
greatest  master  of  metrical  form  of  our  time. 

But  to  return  to  Rienzi,  the  production  of  which 
at  the  The'atre-Lyrique  accomplished  an  old- 
time  project  of  the  Master's.  One  of  Wagner's 


232  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

letters  makes  that  clear — "  Written  about  thirty 
years  ago,  with  a  view  to  grand  opera,  Rienzi 
presents  no  difficulties  for  the  singers  to  overcome, 
and  offers  to  the  Parisian  public  none  of  the 
problems  of  my  later  works.  Both  in  subject 
and  in  musical  form  it  is  closely  related  to  the 
operas  that  have  long  been  popular  in  Paris, 
and  I  still  believe  that  if  it  is  brilliantly  mounted 
and  given  with  spirit  it  has  a  chance  of  success." 

For  serious  works,  time  is  required  in  which 
to  bring  them  a  full  acknowledgment,  but  it  comes 
at  last,  and  the  Master's  own  judgment  of  his 
work  was  most  triumphantly  confirmed  the  other 
evening.  Rienzi  has  not  literally  arrived  at 
the  Grand  Opera,  but  at  the  Theatre-Lyrique 
it  met  with  a  zeal,  an  ardonr  of  conviction  and  a 
passionate  devotion  which  ought  to  banish  from 
his  mind  any  possible  regret.  Pasdeloup  has 
splendidly  welcomed  the  illustrious  guest  that 
he  endeavours  to  introduce  and  to  naturalize 
in  France. 

A  few  words  upon  the  libretto  translated  from 
Wagner's  poem  by  Messrs  Mutter  and  Guillaume. 
One  need  not  seek  there  for  the  learned  complica- 
tions of  our  own  lyric  dramas.  It  is  the  history 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  233 

of  Rienzi  very  simply  told  just  as  it  happened 
in  reality.  Cola  Gabrino,  called  "  Rienzi "  or 
"  Rienzo,"  was  the  son  of  an  Innkeeper.  He 
received  a  good  education,  bound  himself  in 
friendship  with  Petrarch  and,  in  studying  antiquity, 
became  enamoured  of  the  ideas  of  liberty  and  a 
republic.  The  sojourn  of  the  Popes  at  Avignon 
delivered  Rome  over  to  the  most  troublesome 
disorders.  Rienzi  harangued  the  people,  succeeded 
in  making  himself  Tribune,  drove  out  the  Barons 
and  re-established  the  old  and  good  government. 
His  rule  at  first  was  wise,  but  intoxicated  by 
too  great  power  after  having  been  liberator  he 
became  the  oppressor  of  Rome.  Driven  out  of 
the  city  once,  he  returned  and  was  killed  in  a 
riot,  by  a  servitor  of  the  house  of  Colonna.  Be- 
ginning like  Brutus,  he  ended  like  Masaniello  or 
Jean  de  Leyde. 

Rienzi,  Wagner's  first  lyric  drama,  shows 
already  an  immense  talent.  Here  is  not  yet  re- 
vealed the  Wagner  of  the  Flying  Dutchman,  but 
a  man,  nevertheless,  untrammelled  by  precedent. 
Excepting  the  Cavatinas  in  the  Italian  style, 
inserted  here  and  there  to  please  the  public, 
the  opera  resembles  no  other,  the  impression 


234  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

is  unique.  It  is  all  a  great  tumult,  a  rising  of 
the  people.  There  are  in  fact  only  two  char- 
acters, Rienzi  and  the  populace.  It  is  more  like 
a  magnificent  symphony  with  choruses  than  like 
an  opera  as  ordinarily  heard.  The  orchestra 
has  become  the  great  power,  the  science  of  which 
the  composer  fully  understands  and  controls. 
In  the  first  act,  the  call  to  arms — 

"  When  the  trumpet  shall  have  sounded  thrice," 

is  marked  by  a  proud  enthusiasm  which  extends 
to  the  chorus,  whose  voices  carry  on  the  theme 
swelling  and  augmenting  it  to  a  superb  crescendo. 
The  trio  which  follows  is  intermingled  with  an 
adorable  accompaniment.  In  the  second  act 
the  aria  sung  by  the  first  of  the  messengers 
of  peace,  felicitating  Rienzi,  was  warmly  and 
insistently  applauded.  Nothing  could  be  more 
sweet,  more  tender  or  more  delicate  than  this 
melody,  admirably  sung  by  Mile.  Priolat,  from 
whom  the  entire  audience  demanded  its  repetition. 
The  chorus  of  conspiring  patricians  is  also 
very  fine ;  under  the  dull  murmurs  one  divines 
the  revolt  of  injured  pride  and  the  muttering 
of  an,  as  yet,  powerless  hatred.  The  entrance 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  235 

and  the  grief  of  Adriano,  are  expressed  in  the 
orchestra  by  two  notes  of  the  hautboys  which 
are  like  the  sigh  of  a  broken  heart.  This  pure  and 
charming  detail  foretells  the  later  Wagner  whose 
orchestra  is  able  to  reveal  all  things  and  to  make 
one  experience  all  emotion.  The  septet  and  the 
final  chorus  are  fragments  of  such  power  and 
grandeur  that  you  feel  as  though  you  were  floating 
upon  wings.  In  the  third  act,  we  especially  noted 
the  military  march  with  its  firm  and  warlike 
rhythm  ;  and  the  prayer  of  the  women,  augmented 
in  its  fervour  and  its  terror  by  the  intermittent 
sounds  of  battle.  In  the  fourth  act,  the  march 
of  peace  and  the  magnificently  dramatic  situation 
of  Rienzi,  accursed,  excommunicated,  deserted, 
alone  upon  the  steps  of  the  church.  In  the  fifth 
act,  the  prayer  of  Rienzi,  admirable  in  its  sadness 
and  its  fervour. 

"  Rise,  O  Sun,  and  make  the  light  of  liberty  to  shine 
upon  the  world." 

In  this  part  one  again  sees  the  powerful  Wagner 
of  to-day,  and  the  entrance  of  the  Sister  of  the 
Tribune,  who  consoles  him  by  her  devoted  love, 
is  like  a  vista  through  which  one  catches  a  briei 


236  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

glimpse  of  the  angels  with  fluttering  wings  of  the 
prelude  to  Lohengrin.  One  must  congratulate 
M.  Pasdeloup,  the  new  director  of  the  Theatre- 
Lyrique,  who  has  already  done  so  much  for  art 
by  means  of  his  popular  concerts,  for  having  pro- 
produced  Rienzi.  The  notable  success  of  the 
first  representation,  a  success  which  will,  un- 
doubtedly, continue,  allows  us  to  hope  that  we  may 
also  have  before  very  long,  The  Flying  Dutchman, 
Tannhauser,  Lohengrin,  Tristan  and  Isolde,  Die 
Meistersinger,  and  all  that  unknown  repertory, 
rich  casket  of  new  treasure. 

Rienzi  is  sumptuously  mounted,  the  costumes 
and  decorations  are  rich  and  appropriate ;  the 
choruses  well  arranged  and  the  whole  forms  a 
splendid  spectacle.  The  final  tableau  of  the  death 
of  Rienzi  on  his  balcony  is  presented  in  a  highly 
dramatic  manner. 

Montjauze,  in  his  impersonation  of  Rienzi, 
surpasses  all  one's  expectations,  he  is  transfigured 
into  a  singer  and  an  actor  of  the  first  rank.  This 
role  is  for  him  what  William  Tell  was  for  Duprez. 
He  sustains  with  wonderful  ease  the  continuous 
dialogue  with  the  chorus.  His  voice  dominates 
those  great,  those  formidable  crowds,  and  with 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  237 

a  gesture  he  restrains  the  flood  of  people  pressing 
about  him  in  a  transport  of  eagerness  and  joy. 
He  wears  with  artistic  grace  and  majesty  the 
splendid  white  draperies,  richly  embroidered  in 
gold,  with  which  the  Tribune  clothed  himself 
in  his  vanity  as  a  parvenu  whose  head  was  turned 
at  the  summit  of  his  grandeur.  One  could  not 
imagine  a  more  perfect  incarnation  of  the  type 
of  Rienzi. 

Mme.  Borghese  sings  with  warmth  the  rather 
thin  arias  of  Adriano,  lover  of  the  Tribune's  sister, 
who  is  herself  very  gracefully  represented  by 
Mdlle.  Steinberg.  But  this  poor  little  love  episode 
is  tossed  about,  in  all  senses,  like  a  drowned  flower 
by  the  tumultuous  foaming  upheaval  of  this  great 
tragic  drama,  which  begins  with  a  battle  and 
ends  with  a  riot. 

The  choruses  are  excellent,  and  the  orchestra 
executes  with  splendid  spirit  that  overture  of 
Rienzi,  already  popular  long  before  the  opera 
itself  was  known. 

THEOPHILE  GAUTIEE. 


238  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

XXVI 

As  Cosima  and  I,  seated  on  a  garden  bench, 
were  peacefully  talking,  Jacob  came  to  us  bearing 
a  telegram. 

One  always  trembles  before  opening  a  message 
of  this  kind. 

"  It  is  nothing !  Only  rather  a  bore !  "  said 
Cosima,  after  reading  it.  "  Two  elderly  people, 
named  Schott,  husband  and  wife,  announce  that 
they  will  visit  us  this  evening  after  supper.  They 
are  very  worthy  people,  but  he,  at  one  time, 
did  Wagner  a  serious  wrong,  and  Wagner,  without 
exactly  holding  resentment,  yet  has  not  been 
able  to  forget.  Moreover,  these  good  people 
are  very  narrow  and  stiff,  not  at  all  talkative : 
we  shall  not  know  what  to  do,  it  will  be  dull, 
and  all  our  pleasant,  sympathetic  atmosphere 
will  be  disturbed." 

"  It  might  be  possible,"  said  I,  "  to  think  of 
something  collective  that  would  lessen  the  neces- 
sity for  talking  during  this  evening." 

"  True  enough,  but  what  ?  " 

"  You  might  have  some  music." 

"  Wagner  would  not  feel  like  it,  I  know  him  : 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  239 

under  such  circumstances  he  does  not  know  at 
all  how  to  dominate,  but  he  grows  listless  and 
loses  his  good  humour." 

"That  mustn't  be!"  I  exclaimed.  "It  is 
absolutely  necessary  to  think  of  something !  " 

"  Ah  yes  !  Do  help  us  out  of  it  if  possible, 
but  do  not  count  upon  me,  I  feel  utterly  in- 
capable of  an  idea  that  would  be  in  the  least 
amusing." 

I  saw  Servais  in  the  distance  with  Richter, 
they  were  by  the  edge  of  the  lake,  under  the  little 
landing  shed,  and  were  throwing  bits  of  wood 
into  the  water,  to  induce  Russ  and  Cos  to  take 
their  bath. 

"  I  believe  a  light  is  dawning  in  my  mind," 
said  I  to  Cosima.  "  Wait  for  me  where  you  are." 

And  I  ran  down  to  join  the  two  young  men  at 
the  edge  of  the  lake. 

"  My  friends,"  I  said  to  them,  "  in  the  face 
of  a  delicate  situation  do  you  feel  the  moral  force 
to  do  something  unusual,  grand,  heroic  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all,  not  at  all."  replied  Servais.  "  I 
don't  feel  equal  to  anything  of  the  kind." 

"  Not  in  the  service  of  the  Master  ?  " 

"  One  can  always  try,"  said  Richter. 


240  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

"  That  is  something  like  !  Now  you  see,  Servais, 
you  can't  get  out  of  it.  We  must  improvise  a 
first  class  charade  for  this  evening." 

"  A  charade  !     Before  Wagner,  we  two  alone  ?  " 

"  With  Richter  at  the  piano." 

"  But  we  shall  be  absurd  !  We  shall  be  speech- 
less, like  idiots." 

"  On  the  other  hand  the  presence  of  the  Master 
will  inspire  us.  Moreover,  we  have  had  experience 
at  your  house  in  Munich,  and  it  is  very  certain 
that  only  we  two  (you  especially)  have  shown 
any  talent  of  this  kind." 

"  It  is  foolish,  impossible,  abominable,"  groaned 
Servais,  in  the  depths  .of  dismay.  "  I  would 
rather  throw  myself  into  the  lake." 

"It  is  not  a  drama  that  they  want  of  us,  but 
a  farce.  .  .  .  Oh,  come,  they  will  not  be  critical, 
and  perhaps  we  shall  have  the  glory  of  amusing 
the  Master." 

He  raised  his  head  abruptly,  tucking  his  pale 
yellow  locks  behind  his  ears  : 

"  Very  well,  so  be  it.    Let  us  play  a  charade  !  " 

"  Ah,  good !  We  must  have  everything  arranged 
before  supper.  Let  me  tell  the  good  news  to 
Madam  Cosima,  and  then  we  must  get  to  work  !  " 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  241 

"  I  see  that  you  have  thought  of  something," 
said  Cosima,  when  I  returned  to  her. 

"  Yes,  we  will  play  a  charade." 

"  A  charade  ?  Splendid  !  I  do  not  know  ex- 
actly what  that  is,  but  I  am  sure  that  it  is 
something  good." 

"As  to  that,  you  must  risk  the  pillage  of  your 
wardrobe." 

"  I  risk  it.  They  shall  open  the  cupboards 
and  the  drawers  for  you.  Take  anything  you 
like,  except,  perhaps,  my  India  shawl,  which 
I  cherish  very  much.  .  .  .  But  you  must  tell 
me  exactly  what  you  are  going  to  do,  so  I  can 
explain  it  all  to  Wagner ;  otherwise  he  would 
torture  his  mind  in  the  effort  to  comprehend.  .  .  . 
I  am  sure  that  he  hasn't  the  slightest  idea  what 
a  charade  may  be  !  " 

The  drawing-room  was  deserted,  so  it  was 
possible  for  Richter,  Servais  and  me  to  gather 
round  the  piano,  and  with  the  greatest  secrecy 
to  think  out,  to  discuss  and  to  arrange  our 
foolishness. 

The  music  would  be  a  great  help  to  us  in  repre- 
senting characters,  crowds,  uproars  and  riots. 

Therefore    Richter's    role    was    very    important, 
Q 


242  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

and  as,  once  the  charade  had  commenced,  he 
would  be  separated  from  us,  we  agreed  upon 
certain  signals  that  we  should  all  recognise. 

The  gallery,  with  its  large  opening  into  the 
drawing-room,  was  chosen  for  OUT  stage :  its 
heavy  portieres,  drawn  back  or  dropped,  formed 
the  curtain.  All  was  arranged,  the  lamps  dis- 
posed in  the  right  places,  the  accessories  gathered 
together.  Our  greatest  difficulty  was  to  induce 
the  servants  to  let  us  have  a  kettle  and  a 
broom  from  the  kitchen,  two  objects  that 
were  indispensable  to  our  stage  setting.  The 
cook,  throwing  up  her  arms,  cried  that  it  was  not 
at  all  suitable  to  take  such  things  to  the  drawing- 
room,  so  we  were  obliged  to  take  them  by  main 
force. 

XXVII 

We  had  hardly  finished  supper  and  were 
still  at  table  when  Herr  and  Frau  Schott  were 
announced. 

Wagner  made  a  droll  face,  got  up,  and  offered 
me  his  arm  to  pass  to  the  drawing-room. 

But  just  outside  the  door  I  slipped  away,  and 
with  Servais  I  climbed  to  the  first  floor,  where 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  243 

Cosima's  maid  was  waiting  to  help  us  do  the  best 
we  could  with  our  costumes. 

When  we  were  ready  Jacob  lighted  the  stage 
lamps ;  and  drawing  the  curtains  a  little,  we 
peeped  into  the  drawing-room. 

There  they  are,  seated  hi  rows,  the  two  new 
guests  in  the  front  row.  They  appear  to  us  very 
solemn  and  terrifying :  two  portraits  by  Franz 
Hals — a  Franz  Hals  who  would  have  lived  under 
Louis  Philippe — tall,  straight,  all  clothed  in 
black  ;  he,  in  a  frock  coat  and  high  satin  cravat ; 
she,  in  a  dull,  lifeless  frock,  with  hardly  a  line  of 
white  at  the  neck  ;  thin  figures  and  sallow  skins  ; 
nothing  playful  about  them.  We  are  a  little 
disconcerted.  Pshaw  !  The  Master's  voice  sounds 
laughingly  :  he  is  in  a  good  humour,  all  goes  well. 
Courage ! 

Dum  !    Dum  !    Dum  ! 

Richter  at  the  piano  begins  a  fanciful  overture 
where  the  motifs  of  Tristan  and  Isolde  mingle 
with  foreign  airs.  The  curtain  is  drawn. 

A  young  Chinese  lady  embroiders  under  the 
lamp ;  but  this  virtuous  occupation  and  tranquil 
appearance  are  deceitful :  violent  passions  agitate 
her  soul.  She  is  married  to  a  man  whom  she 


244  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

detests,  first,  just  because  she  detests  him,  and 
then  because  he  belongs  to  a  conquering  race. 
He  is  a  Tartar.  She  waits  for  her  lover,  whom 
she  adores,  and  who  himself  is  a  true  Chinaman. 

The  husband  is  asleep,  the  night  dark ;  the 
lover  watches  in  the  shadow.  Now  the  hour  has 
come  for  the  signal :  she  opens  the  window  and 
waves  her  scarf.  From  the  piano  comes  the 
second  act  of  Tristan. 

The  lover  enters  impetuously. 

"  My  beloved  ?  " 

"  My  darling,  art  thou  truly  mine  ?  " 

"  Dost  thou  still  belong  to  me  ?  " 

"  Are  these  thine  eyes  ?  " 

"  Is  this  thy  mouth  ?  " 

"Thy  heart?" 

"  Sweetheart !  " 

"  Stem  of  the  Lotus  !  " 

"  Duck  of  a  Mandarin  !  " 

The  music  changes.  It  is  now  from  the  fifth 
scene  of  Die  Walkure ;  enter  Sieglinde  and 
Siegmund. 

"  Is  he  asleep  ?  " 

"  Ah,  he  sleeps  profoundly.  I  prepared  for 
him  an  intoxicating  drink." 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  245 

"  His  sleep  is  not  yet  profound  enough.  Let 
us  finish  what  thou  hast  begun :  that  he  may 
never  waken  again." 

They  decide  then  to  assassinate  the  Tartar, 
and  to  conceal  his  body. 

The  lover  steals  into  the  next  room,  from 
which  cries  are  very  soon  heard,  and  the  sound 
of  a  struggle ;  then  the  murderer  returns,  dragging 
after  him  an  inanimate  body. 

They  must  dispose  of  it,  throw  it  into  the  river, 
and  the  lover  tries  to  pull  the  dead  man  onto 
his  back.  But  this  Tartar,  who  was  a  man  of 
importance  with  the  rank  of  Mandarin,  had  been 
altogether  too  well  fed  and  he  is  horribly  heavy, 
so  that  the  Chinaman  is  doubled  up  under  his 
great  bulk,  and  try  as  he  may  he  cannot  carry 
the  unwieldy  corpse. 

"  Ah  well,  cut  him  in  two  !  " 

Then,  by  the  aid  of  a  great  sabre  and  their 
own  tremendous  efforts,  they  hack  the  Tartar 
in  two — not  very  difficult  really,  considering 
the  cushions  of  which  he  is  formed.  When  this 
has  been  accomplished  the  lover  wraps  one  of 
the  halves  in  a  rug  and  carries  it  off.  He  will 
come  back  for  the  remainder  the  next  night.  .  .  . 


246  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

Villiers,  in  the  drawing-room,  has  already 
guessed  that  this  first  syllable  which  we  have 
acted  ought  to  be  "  Tar  "—the  half  of  a  Tartar  ! 

The  next  thing  to  do  is  to  make  them  recognise 
the  illustrious  Pasdeloup  directing  a  "  popular 
concert "  and  that  difficult  task  falls  to  my  lot. 
I  have  made  myself  a  beard  with  skeins  of  yellow 
silk,  and  donned  an  evening  coat  of  Wagner's. 
Servais  has  to  multiply  himself  to  represent  the 
public,  the  police,  etc.,  while  Richter  in  the 
distance  is  the  orchestra. 

All  join  in  giving  the  "  la "  1  with  especial 
significance :  then  they  begin  the  prelude  to 
Lohengrin.  Pasdeloup,  according  to  his  custom, 
rounds  his  back,  wrinkles  his  good-natured  face, 
extends  his  arms  with  gestures  half  supplicating, 
half  soothing,  hi  order  to  secure  "  Pianissimi " 
full  of  mystery,  and  the  orchestra  does  his  best 
to  obey.  But  all  is  not  in  harmony  in  the 
audience.  Murmurs  arise,  are  hushed  down,  then 
an  altercation  follows,  with  a  sound  of  slaps, 
and  swells  to  an  uproar — as  it  had  so  often  done 
during  those  days  at  "  The  Cirque  d'Hiver." * — 

1  "  La  "  A,  given  for  the  tuning  of  the  instruments. 
*  A  well-known  place  of  entertainment  in  Paris. 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  247 

The  orchestra  stops,  the  guard  drags  out  the 
roysterers,  and  Pasdeloup  makes  a  speech  to  the 
public. 

And  that,  both  good  and  bad,  represents  the 
syllable  "  La." 

All  the  servants  at  Tribschen  are  crowded 
at  the  doors,  and  they  watch  this  unprecedented 
sight  with  devout  amazement.  At  the  third 
scene  their  attention  redoubles,  for  the  kettle 
and  the  broom  are  about  to  play  their  part,  to 
the  great  horror  of  the  cook. 

"If  it  had  only  been  a  nice  hair  broom  !  But 
that  ugly  old  one  used  to  sweep  the  court !  " 

In  reality  the  broom  is  not  exactly  the  right 
thing,  but  as  there  is  only  one  of  me  to  personate 
the  three  witches  of  Macbeth,  I  feel  that  this 
classic  mount  will  aid  the  illusion.  With  my 
hair  concealed  under  a  grey  veil,  I  bestride  the 
diabolical  steed,  which  then  proceeds  to  prance. 

"  Round  about  the  cauldron  go  ; 
In  the  poison'd  entrails  throw 
Toad,  that  under  cold  stone, 
Days  and  nights  hast  thirty-one 
Swelter'd  venom  sleeping  got, 
Boil  thou  first  i'  the  charmed  pot. 
Double,  double,  toil  and  trouble  ; 
Fire,  burn  :  and,  cauldron,  bubble. 


248  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

Fillet  of  a  fenny  snake, 
In  the  cauldron  boil  and  bake ; 
Eye  of  newt,  and  toe  of  frog, 
Wool  of  bat,  and  tongue  of  dog, 
Adder's  fork,  and  blind- worm's  sting, 
Lizard's  leg,  and  owlet's  wing, 
For  a  charm  of  powerful  trouble, 
Like  a  hell-broth  boil  and  bubble." 

Then  comes  Macbeth :  he  is  welcomed  by  the 
prophetic  words  : 

"  All  hail,  Macbeth,  hail  to  thee  thane  of 
Glamis !  " 

"  Hail  to  thee,  thane  of  Cawdor  !  " 

"  All  hail,  Macbeth,  that  shalt  be  king  hereafter." 

And  the  audience  is  supposed  to  understand 
that  the  third  syllable  is  "  Tane." 

We  are  very  successful  up  to  this  point.  Wagner, 
who  is  standing  behind  an  easy  chair,  leaning 
his  elbows  on  the  back,  looks  and  listens  with 
extreme  attention,  he  is  greatly  interested  and 
laughs  heartily 

Now  we  must  give  the  entire  word :  "  Tarlatane." 
The  public  approbation  encourages  us,  so  we 
are  no  longer  nervous  about  our  effects. 

Richter  plays  a  waltz. 

A  lady  comes  home  at  midnight  from  a  ball, 
in  a  tarlatan  frock.  Standing  before  her  mirror 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  249 

she  begins  to  remove  her  jewels,  to  take  the 
flowers  from  her  hair,  meanwhile  thinking  over 
the  incidents  of  the  evening,  the  compliments, 
the  scandals,  the  toilettes  more  or  less  pretty, 
the  little  absurdities  of  her  friends,  which  are 
still  amusing  her. 

As  she  has  danced  all  the  evening,  she  is  very 
tired,  and  rejoices  at  the  idea  of  retiring. 

But  suddenly  there  is  a  ring  at  the  bell.  The 
lady  starts  : 

"Who  can  be  ringing  at  my  house  at  such 
an  hour  ?  " 

The  domestics  are  in  bed.  At  first  she  dares 
not  open  the  door :  but  she  must,  for  perhaps 
some  one  of  her  neighbours  is  ill  and  in  need  of  her. 

On  the  threshold  appears  a  strange  young  man, 
tall,  thin,  with  weeping  willow  locks,  and  an 
awkward  and  conceited  air. 

"  You  are  no  doubt  mistaken  in  the  floor,  sir, 
as  I  have  not  the  honour  of  your  acquaintance." 

"  How,  Madam,  you  do  not  remember  me ! 
You  know  me  very  well,  nevertheless.  We  have 
met  in  society,  and  I  came  here  once  to  a  Soiree 
at  your  house.  Let  me  give  you  my  card  !  " 

"  Ah,  yes,  I  do  seem  to  remember,  you  are 


250  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

not  altogether  a  stranger.  .  .  .  But  what  serious 
thing  can  have  happened  to  bring  you  to  my 
house  so  late  ?  " 

"  Oh,  do  not  be  disturbed,  there  is  nothing 
serious,  nothing  at  all.  I  was  passing  your  house 
by  chance;  happening  to  look  up,  I  saw  a  light 
in  your  window.  I  said  to  myself :  '  Stay !  I 
owe  this  lady  a  visit,  a  very  much  delayed  visit, 
which  must  not  be  put  off  any  longer.  .  .  .  What 
a  good  opportunity !  Certainly,  I  am  not 
sleepy,  and,  since  she  is  awake  she  is  not  sleepy 
either.  She  will  be  pleased  to  see  me  and  to 
pass  a  few  hours  in  intellectual  conversation 
with  me.' " 

"A  few  hours!" 

"  But,  I  beg  you,  do  not  inconvenience 
yourself  for  me !  do  not  remain  standing ;  let 
us  be  seated ;  one  can  talk  so  much  better  sitting 
down." 

"  But  don't  you  understand,  sir,  it  is  very  late  !  " 

"  Oh !  do  not  be  disturbed  about  that,  I  am 
not  in  the  slightest  hurry." 

And  the  intruder  enters  upon  a  trifling  and 
endless  gabble  in  spite  of  the  impatience  of  the 
lady,  who  does  not  attempt  to  conceal  her  ill- 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  251 

humour,    and   replies   ironically   and    as    briefly 
as  possible.    Finally  she  declares  : 

"  I  truly  believe  that  you  have  lost  your  common- 


sense." 


16  What,  do  you  imagine  that  I  am  intoxicated  ? 
Ah  well,  you  will  see  that  is  quite  impossible 
when  I  tell  you  that  I  have  dined  at  home :  a 
plain  and  frugal  dinner,  of  which  I  retain  a  very 
unpleasant  memory,  and  while  we  are  on  that 
subject,  I  beg  of  you  to  be  good  enough  to  give 
me  a  tooth-pick." 

"  A  tooth-pick  !  " 

1  Yes,  exactly,  you  will  in  that  way  do  me  a 
favour,  because,  at  that  dinner,  I  partook  of 
veal,  and  I  should  very  much  like  a  tooth-pick. 
You  see  it  was  paternal  veal,  stringy,  tough  and 
salted.  .  .  .  Ah,  so  salt  that  I  am  dying  of  thirst, 
and  it  would  be  so  kind  of  you  if  you  would  have 
some  drinks  served." 

During  the  last  intermission,  some  champagne 
had  been  uncorked.  Wagner,  who  was  as  amused 
as  a  child,  interrupted  the  scene  at  this  point, 
crying  out : 

"Here  it  is!    Here  it  is!" 

And  he  poured  the  sparkling  wine  for  us  himself ! 


252  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

Then  Servais  became  epic. 

"It  is  very  curious,  Madam,  but  you  have 
a  butler  who  has  a  marvellous  resemblance  to 
a  composer  of  whom  they  have  been  talking 
very  much  of  late,  a  certain  Richard  Wagner. 
He  is  an  extravagant  person,  a  madman,  who 
makes  terrible  music,  full  of  discords  that  are 
worthy  of  cannibals  and  calls  it  '  the  music  of 
the  future.'  " 

And  he  retailed,  without  trembling,  all  the 
venomous  imbecilities  that  were  current,  and 
finally :  .  .  . 

"  And  it  appears  that  this  music  has  no  airs, 
yet,  apropos  of  this,  something  surprises  me 
very  much :  this  composer  has  brought  out 
in  Paris  a  so  -  called  opera,  which  naturally 
was  finely  hissed,  and  which  furnished  a  subject 
for  endless  witticisms  :  one,  among  others,  you 
might,  perhaps,  be  able  to  explain  to  me.  Some 
one  said,  '  He  bores  me  with  his  recitatives  and 
wearies  me  with  his  airs  ' — (il  me  tanne  aux  airs).1 
But  since  there  are  no  airs  ?  and  then  '  tanne.* 
What  can  that  word  mean  ?  " 

1  Allusion  of  that  time  to  "  Tannhauser." 
"  II  TO.'  ennuie  aux  recitatifs  et  il  me  taniie  aux  airs." 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  253 

Then  the  lady's  wrath  broke  forth  : 

"  Sir,  '  tanner*  is  a  slang  word,  which  means 
4  to  annoy,  to  bore,  to  exasperate  '  in  polite  speech. 
It  is,  for  example,  what  you  are  doing  here  at 
this  moment.  I  have  given  proof  of  extraordinary 
patience  because  I  am  a  gentlewoman,  but  now 
that  you  dare  to  speak  offensively  of  a  man 
whom  I  believe  to  be  the  greatest  genius  that 
ever  existed,  that  I  will  not  endure.  You  have 
wounded  my  dearest  convictions.  You  are 
an  idiot  and  a  ruffian,  and  I  have  the  pleasure 
of  showing  you  the  door,  and  of  charging 
you  never  to  come  to  my  house  again." 

Wagner  laughed  till  he  cried. 

It  was  necessary  to  explain,  in  the  midst  of 
the  bravos  and  the  recalls,  that  the  word  of  the 
charade  was  "  Tarlatane  "  :  A  lady  hi  a  tarlatane 
dress  ...  a  man  who  "  tard  la  tanne,"  "  stays 
late  and  bores." 

XXVIII 

After  having  resumed  our  usual  clothing,  we 
went  down  again  to  the  drawing-room.  The 
Master  came  to  meet  us,  and  pretending  not  to 
have  recognised  us  through  our  disguises,  he  cried : 


254  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

"  Heavens !  where  have  you  been  ?  Why  are 
you  so  late  ?  We  had  here  a  troupe  of  wonderful 
comedians,  who  played  the  drollest  possible 
piece.  .  .  .  How  unfortunate  that  you  missed 
them !  You  will  never  see  anything  like  it 
again !  " 

As  to  the  worthy  visitors,  the  prime  cause 
of  this  unique  representation,  sober,  imperturb- 
able, upright  in  their  chairs,  in  their  severe 
costumes,  they  sat  without  moving,  listening 
intently,  watching  with  all  their  eyes,  but  prob- 
ably understanding  very  little. 

I  feel  sure  that  they  remained  forever  convinced 
that  it  was  all  from  some  new  work  of  the  Master — 
some  unpublished  fragment,  perhaps  from  the 
Ring  of  the  Nibelung ! 

•  •  »  •  • 

And  now  again  it  was  the  farewell  evening. 

In  order  to  soften  the  bitterness,  Wagner  took 
a  score  and  went  to  the  piano. 

"  To-day,"  said  he,  "  let  us  make  peace  with 
the  Meistersinger." 

The  Master  believed,  in  spite  of  my  efforts 
to  convince  him  to  the  contrary,  that  I  did 
not  care  for  the  Meistersinger.  The  truth  is, 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  255 

that  all  I  had  heard  of  the  opera  was  a  few 
fragments  played  at  the  popular  concerts  or 
at  the  piano.  All  that  I  knew  delighted  me, 
but  Wagner  would  not  believe  it. 

"I  do  not  want  you  to  misunderstand  this 
work,"  said  he,  as  he  opened  the  book. 

And,  for  several  hours  he  went  through  the 
score,  playing,  explaining,  commenting  with 
wonderful  kindness. 

The  music  of  the  Meister 'singer  is  especially 
difficult  to  render  at  the  piano  and  Wagner  was 
not  a  very  skilful  performer — Richter  knew  that, 
so  he  was  very  restless  and  followed  the  Master's 
playing,  note  by  note,  with  the  greatest  anxiety. 
He  knew  it  all,  even  the  most  uninteresting 
passages ;  he  touched  the  notes  that  the  hand 
of  the  Master  was  too  small  to  include.  From 
time  to  time  he  was  carried  out  of  himself,  and 
struck  the  piano  hurriedly,  saving  an  effect  which 
was  in  danger  of  being  lost,  completing  a  harmony, 
or  striking  a  chord  between  the  Master's  hesitating 
fingers. 

I  am  not  sure  that  Wagner  was  not  a  little 
irritated  by  this  infringement  upon  his  territory. 
It  was  quite  useless,  moreover,  for  no  virtuoso 


256  WAGNER  AT  HOME 

could  have  been  able  to  render  the  deep  meaning 
and  secret  tenderness  of  the  work  as  well  as  its 
author.  How  grateful  we  were !  How  completely 
the  Meistersinger  was  absolved.  On  that  point 
Wagner  had  no  longer  any  doubts. 

XXIX 

Then  they  sketched  out  some  new  projects. 
Servais  was  in  friendly  relations  with  the  director 
of  the  "  Theatre  de  la  Monnaie "  at  Brussels, 
and  also  with  Brassin,  director  of  the  Conservatory, 
who  was  a  Wagnerian  fanatic :  they  wished, 
with  the  Master's  permission,  to  try  to  arrange 
for  the  production  of  Lohengrin  at  Brussels,  with 
Richter  as  chief  of  the  orchestra. 

"  If  Richter  is  able  to  make  any  money  out 
of  the  affair,  and  in  that  way  to  repay  himself 
for  what  he  has  lost  through  me,  I  agree  to  it," 
said  Wagner,  "  but  only  on  that  condition." 

They  gave  us  some  commissions  for  Paris. 
Cosima  wanted  some  preserves  "  such  as  one 
finds  in  the  Paris  grocers'  shops."  She  also 
wished  me  to  take  a  subscription  to  the  journal 
called  La  Poupee  Modele,  for  Senta. 


WAGNER  AT  HOME  257 

Wagner  had  been  for  a  long  time  searching 
for  a  particularly  delicious  snuff,  which  could, 
no  doubt,  be  found  at  "  La  Civette." 

"  For,"  said  he,  "  while  it  is  true  that  I  smoke, 
I  also  take  snuff  sometimes,  from  a  beautiful 
golden  snuff  box,  like  an  ancient  Marquis.  ...  So 
you  see,  I  have  all  the  vices,  but  in  moderation." 

We  tried  not  to  be  sad.  We  had  gathered 
a  bountiful  harvest  of  memories,  and  we  were 
consoled  by  our  just  pride  in  such  a  wonderful 
friendship. 

Moreover  they  promised  us  frequent  news. 
Cosima,  "  who  writes  letters  like  Madame  de 
Sevigne,"  would  be  punctual  and  faithful,  "  pro- 
vided always  that  one  replied  to  her  as  faithfully." 

We  would  continue  then  to  hold  firmly  on  high 
the  banner  of  Art,  to  fight  the  good  fight,  up  to 
the  final  triumph  of  our  cause. 

And,  after  the  farewell  kiss,  we  went  away, 
stoical,  bearing  with  us  much  happiness  : 

Aux  pelerins  d'amour 
La  vision  du  dieu  parfume  le  retour ! 


H  J 
D  < 
<  fe 


y y  /  y 

V-^f-^-Jt^l^f*  V  / 

-  /  /  v 

**£<       -^cc^o^ 


EXTRACT  FROM   ONE   OF  WAGNER'S   LETTF.RS  TO   MADAME  GAUTIER, 
SHOWING   PART  OF   SCORE  OF  THE   LAST  ACT  OF   "  PARSIFAL." 


24532 


000  677  843 


